Speak
by AndImTheQueenOfSheba
Summary: COMPLETE - It hurt, really really bad. It was burning. Then, Ben was in my face, looking angry again. "You tell anybody...And I'll make sure you die the most painful death possible." I vomited on him. Then, I passed out.
1. Chapter 1

**_I got this idea from some lifetime movies I watched over the 7 months I didn't have the net...Can you tell I was bored...lifetime? Well here you go._**

**_This story takes place at the beginning of their Freshman year._**

**_NOTE: I guess some people don't understand what "Based on the book of the same name, by Lori Halse Anderson" means, so I'm gonna make this idiot proof._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the plot/storyline of the first couple chapters. After that, it is all from my own head. So don't call me a plagiarist, okay? Cause if you do, you're an idiot. I also do not own the characters in the story, sans Ben, Linda, Kevin, Gwen, Matt and Jenny._**

People never say what they mean. Like Grandparents for example. Let's say your grandmother buys you a hideous sweater you will never wear in your entire life. When she says,

"If you don't like it you can always return it." she really means,

"You better be wearin' that thing next time I see you."

And sometimes, your parents might say,

"I'm going to the grocery store, do you want to come?"

What they _really_ mean is, "You're going to the grocery store with me whether you like it or not."

It's peer pressure. I suppose they want to sound nice, but we're not stupid. We know what they really mean.

At least, most of us do. I've had plenty of experience with people that don't say what they mean. After it happened, my friends told me it was ok. That they forgave me.

It wasn't.

They didn't.

They didn't know.

They didn't know what I knew.

They never would. I sure wouldn't tell them.

So that was how, on my first day of high school, I ended up at the bus stop alone, in an itchy long-sleeved, incredibly warm, maroon sweater, with no friends and a gigantic headache. I could already tell how well this year was gonna go.

The bus pulled up, but I just stood there.

"You gonna get on?" The bus driver asked me, in a bored tone, like he absolutely hated his job and just wanted to get it over with. He probably did.

I got on the bus like he asked.

I went to the very back of the bus. It seemed like it went on forever. I sat down at the end of the continuous yellow monster.Not the last seat, though,the one in front of it. When you sit in the last seat, you stick out more, and that was exactly what I was trying not to do.

I stared out the window and tried not to do it. I didn't want to. It hurt to much.

But no matter how much I tried not to, I did.

I_ remembered_.

I _always_ remembered. It would stay out of my mind, it was always there, jumping around inside my head, refusing to leave me alone.

**_I was in a car._**

**_I was in Matt's car._**

**_We were speeding, going a_****_lmost 20 miles over the speed limit._**

**_We were going to a party, and _****_I was in the passenger's seat._**

**_Lilly, Oliver, Gwen, and Kevin were squeezed into the back like a bunch of sardines._**

**_Ever since Gwen, Kevin, and Matt moved next door, _****_I had plenty of friends._**

**_But not because of them._**

**_Because of Luann._**

**_She told people that Hannah Montana was her cousin., and t_****_hey figured that meant I was related to her. _**

**_Instant popularity._**

**_I was one of the most popular girls in school, b_****_ut it was only for two months._**

**_That was because of me._**

**_Because of him._**

**_Because of them._**

**_Lilly leaned out the window of Matt's car and laughed._**

**_Gwen leaned out the window too and screamed at the top of her lungs._**

**_I leaned out the window, but _****_I did nothing._**

**_I just let the wind blow through my hair._**

**_I knew it was messing it up, but _****_I didn't care. I was so carefree at the moment. I didn't have a clue what was going to happen._**

**_"Miley?" Oliver asked me, in an uncomfortable tone of voice._**

**_"Are you gonna stay out there in lala land forever, or are you coming back to earth?"_**

**_I pulled my head back into the car and leaned over the console. I got right in his face, smiled, and said,_**

**_"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trespass."_**

"Hi! I'm Jenny. I'm new here." An overly enthusiastic girl with red hair – that was definitely not her natural hair color- said, interrupting my thoughts. I was grateful in a way, but I also wished that she hadn't said anything. That way I could just stay on the bus, lost in my mind, completely disconnected from the rest of the world.

I only nodded at her, in greeting. She looked uncomfortable, sort of embarrassed. After a minute or two, I decided to say something to her.

"Miley." I told her. She instantly launched into a long story that I didn't care one bit about.

"Wow. What a cool name. I once had a friend named Kadesha back in Chicago. Did you know they don't call it the windy city because of the weather? Supposedly it's because of the politicians. I guess it's because they had a tendency to talk on and on and on…"

Kinda makes this the windy school bus.

She kept going on and on about some cousin she had named Lateece, and I nodded, pretending I was listening. I really didn't care. I knew she was probably the only person, besides my teachers, that would talk to me today, but I didn't care. I didn't want to be here, and as long as I was lost in my head, unaware of everything going on around me, I would be ok.

After the fake redhead complimented me on my ugly skirt, I mumbled,

"Nice shoes."

They weren't nice.

They were hideous.

They were floral, and the colors of a rotten pumpkin and some dead rose petals. My great-grandmother is constantly wearing those colors. They make her look like she's already dead.

"Thanks! I have them in six other colors, Mayflower blue, Bonjour Beige..."

Shoe girl could probably go on and on for hours about her pumpkin shoes, and I really didn't care about anything she was saying.

I couldn't care less about shoes.

Or clothes.

Anything.

I didn't care about that kind of stuff anymore.

It may seem strange, considering, I'm a girl, and that's pretty much against the law, but I just lost interest in everything after it happened.

While Jenny went on and on and on about her Sunshine Yellow flip-flops, I tried to think of something else. But instead, my mind went straight to my memories. It was like my brain was stuck on this channel, and every time I'd turn it on, thats what it would show.

**_I was always remembering._**

**_Out of order. _**

**_This one was towards the end._**

**_No._**

**_Not the end._**

**_Never the end._**

**_There is no end._**

**_No beginning either._**

**_No middle._**

**_Only the whole thing._**

**_This was one of the worst memories._**

**_One of the sounds._**

**_I was making the sounds._**

**_Yelling. _**

**_I was Yelling._**

**_No._**

**_Screaming._**

**_I was screaming._**

**_Yet nobody heard me._**

**_Only him._**

**_Only me._**

**_"No!" I screamed._**

**_"Stop!" I screamed._**

**_Nobody heard me. It was a muffled noise, a sound somebody would assume was an animal._**

**_There was an end._**

**_The end of my life._**

**_The real end._**

**_The important end._**

I wish my mind had a mute button.

"Oh my gosh! We're here!" Jenny squealed.

I've never known why people got _that_ excited about the first day of school.

I _never _get excited about anything.

I used to get excited. I used to get excited about almost everything. Even School, sometimes.

Concerts.

CD signings.

New Albums.

New songs.

Just being Hannah at all was exhilarating.

Knowing how many friends I'd have if they knew. It was a little smile in the back of my head that nobody could see.

If they only knew who I was.

Who I _used to be_.

I wasn't Hannah anymore.

Hannah died.

She died with my innocence.

With my mind.

With my happiness.

With my voice.

With my virginity.

**Ah, much better than before...I'm satisfied with this now...I do believe I'll continue fixing these chapters...**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Man, I don't get why so many people liked this..I personally think it sucks lol..good thing I'm redoing it.._**

The school was just a plain, large, brick, building.

Like every other school.

But different.

The sign said 'Seaview High School – Home of the hornets.'

Under hornets, in spray paint, it said "the horny horny hornets". Some people have no respect.

First hour was boring. I discovered that you can't listen to Miss Pilton.

I call her cat woman. The reason being, she talks like a cat lady. She's got that high pitched voice, like she's talking to a baby.

Her voice puts you to sleep instantly. At least, it puts _me _to sleep.

Plus, she laughs at her own, pathetic, jokes.

I hate first hour.

Second hour wasn't much better.

Mr. Petrakis is fat.

He's so obese, that when he writes on the board, his stomach erases everything else he wrote.

Kinda like Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. He also talks too quietly . I couldn't hear anything he was saying. I guessed the rest of the class didn't either, as they had confused looks on their faces all through the class.

My geometry teacher has no face. Only hair. It covers her whole head. She's got the most jacked up hair line I've ever seen. So I call her hair lady. Mostly because I don't know her real name.

She's not the greatest teacher either. She sort of mumbles everything she says, so you don't understand her. Nobody listens anyway.

The rest of the day wasn't any better than the first half. Especially lunch. And History.

I ate lunch in the bathroom.

The reason?

When I went in the lunchroom, I got my lunch, looked for a table and couldn't find one. I had nowhere to sit. Everybody hated me. They wouldn't let me sit by them.

I noticed, standing there, that everybody was staring at me.

Somebody yelled, "Whore" and tried to cover it with a cough. Of course the teachers didn't notice. I tuned them out and crossed the room to find somewhere to sit. Soon everybody was yelling profanities at me.

Even Jenny. The dumb ass had no clue what they were going on about.

They all thought they knew. They thought they knew why I did it.

I didn't _want_ them all to get in trouble. I was scared. I feared for my life. I still do.

Somebody threw an apple at me, and I caught it. It was a stroke of luck though, because I have horrible hand-eye coordination, and usually can't catch anything.

Everybody started pelting me with fruit, and eventually somebody tossed their water at me. Everybody else followed suit. I couldn't believe nobody was stopping this. Sure, in their minds I deserved it. If what they thought had happened was actually true, I would've deserved it. I didn't though, because that was _not _what happened.

I ran out of the lunchroom, and on my way, I chucked my entire lunch, tray included, into the garbage.

I ran into the bathroom, soaked. In the end stall, I sat down and stared at the apple I still had in my hand. The apple was so shiny, I could see my own reflection. I saw something else in that apple too.

**_I was wearing a blue button up shirt._**

**_I would never wear it again._**

**_No buttons._**

**_Buttons were bad._**

**_The top 5 buttons were ripped off. _**

**_My hair was messed up._**

**_It would take me the whole night to get a brush through it._**

**_I was looking for the phone._**

_**I found it. **_

_**No. I didn't. **_

**_The phone wasn't there._**

**_I pushed the page button._**

**_I heard it ringing and _****_found it in the refrigerator._**

**_I looked behind the orange juice, and found it hidden behind about a dozen bottles of vodka._**

**_I hit the nine button._**

**_Then the one._**

**_'I shouldn't.'_**

**_'I have to.'_**

**_'Everyone will hate me.'_**

**_I pushed the one._**

**_I heard the voice and set the phone down._**

**_'I shouldn't have.'_**

**_I ran outside and saw his car. _****_He wasn't there, thank god._**

**_I don't know what I would have done if he had been there._**

**_I reached into my back pocket._**

**_There was something in there._**

**_A set of keys._**

**_His keys._**

**_'I couldn't'_**

**_I knew how to drive._**

**_But I couldn't._**

**_I'd crash._**

**_Drunk driving was against the law._**

**_Especially when you're 14._**

**_I knew I was drunk._**

**_Not at first, but I did now._**

**_It wasn't my fault, but m_****_y dad would still kill me._**

**_I dropped the keys and ran._**

**_I ran almost two miles, before I slowed down, as I crossed a small bridge._**

**_I started walking, and looked down an my wrist, so see what time it was._**

**_My watch was gone._**

**_He must have pulled it off._**

**_He pulled everything else off._**

**_It was probably about 2 am, last I had seen a clock, it had been midnight._**

**_I continued walking, heading in a direction I didn't recognize. Eventually, I would figure out what direction my house was._**

**_I quit breathing for a few seconds, and could hear sirens, far away. _**

**_Police cars._**

**_They were definitely going to hate me._**

I took a bite of the apple and stared at the floor.

"Miss, are you ok?" The janitor asked

She was Hispanic.

I could tell without looking, she had an accent.

I looked up at her warm face. Somebody that didn't know who I was. As myself, or as somebody else. That's exactly what I needed at the moment.

Her name tag said 'Rita'

She looked trustworthy. I shook my head no.

"Kid's can be so cruel." She said, shaking her head in disbelief. If she only knew. "Come with me, there are towels in the janitor's closet."

I followed the Janitor down the periwinkle blue hallways, to a small room by the office.

She went inside, so I followed her. She gave me a towel, and said,

"If you ever need somewhere to eat lunch..."

She showed me a room in the back of the closet, and motioned to it with her arm.

"Thanks." I mumbled, drying myself off. I sat down on the floor and took a bite out of my apple.

Then the bell rang. It would get no better than this. Only worse.

My History teacher, Mr. Knee, hates me.

Of all the body parts he could have for a last name, knee is probably the best.

It's one of the only ones he actually has.

Mr. Knee is a stick.

He's a bean pole.

And he has no neck.

Just a head, on top of some bony things I suppose you could call shoulders.

He also has a nasally voice. It's _incredibly_ annoying, even if he wasn't saying the things he was saying.

It was more irritating than Traci Vanhorn's. She had surgery a couple months ago to fix that deviated septum. She still talks funny though. I guess she's too used to it.

Mr. Knee yells a lot.

At Dandruff Danny, at Chad, at Donny, at Amber, at me.

Mostly at me.

He gave me a detention.

It's on Wednesday.

I'm not going.

I decided to walk home after school. I didn't want to ride the bus with Jenny. Her voice gave me headaches. She was too cheerful.

When I got home, I sat on the front steps without bothering to go inside and check in with my dad. It's not like I had anywhere to go, either.

I have no friends, and there's no use even trying to talk to my old friends. They don't even hang out with _each other_ anymore. Ever since they got in trouble at that party, they've all had different opinions of me since then, none of them nice.

Lilly hangs out with the skater kids now, no surprise. We never really had anything in common with each other anyways.

Oliver hangs out with the popular kids. He's always been more popular than the rest of us. I don't know why though, he's such a dork. He's oblivious to everything.

Gwen and Kevin hang out with pretty much everybody. They mostly stay to themselves though. They've always been like that. We'd never really been that close anyways.

Lastly, theres me. The weird girl who went insane in the ninth grade. The one that's stuck inside her own head. The one that never talks to anybody. The one that called the cops at the biggest party of the summer and got half the student body in trouble. That's me.

**_Let me know what you think of this now, kay?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_wow, this chapter was extremely short lol..they all are..I always thought these were a lot longer.. I won't be able to fix this one though, because i can't add anything...I'll just have to add a lot more detail.. _**

In my next Science class, Mr. Petrakis erased our homework with his stomach.

Nobody had time to write it down, so he gave up on trying to tell the class what it was, and just let us go. No homework in Science. Yay.

In Algebra, Hair lady tried to teach, but nobody cared, just like every other day. As hard as she tries to teach us, nobody cares about polynomials. Nobody cares about the Pythagorean theorem, or any of that other crap we probably won't ever use in our lifetime. They invented calculators for a reason. Who want's to put a great inventor's invention to shame?

"So if 4y 7y – 54 1, than y is equal to…"

Nobody raised their hand, but Hair lady continued to try.

"Ok… umm."

She grabbed a dry erase marker, crossed out the first equation, and wrote y equals 4x plus b on the board instead.

Below that, she wrote (3, 2)

"Can anybody tell me what b is?"

This was easy, but nobody said anything.

Hair lady looked like she was about to cry.

I wanted to raise my hand, but I didn't have the energy to do it. All I wanted to do was sleep. That's all I _ever _wanted to do anymore.

I shifted in my seat and looked across the room at Lilly. She looked up, saw me staring, and turned away.

I felt like I was going to cry, and rested my head on my arms. I didn't want anybody to look at me, even though I knew I wouldn't cry,

I had cried myself dry. It was impossible for me to produce tears.

In Language Arts today, I ignored the teacher.

We had no homework anyways. I probably missed something really important, and now I'll probably fail midterms, but I don't care anymore.

The whole day was going great though. No homework. No reason to listen to my teachers and their non-ceasing babbling.

Instead of listening to the clock ticking, like I had all through my other classes, I immersed myself in my easily cracked mind and thought.

I thought about my family. My dad. My step-mom. My brother.

I couldn't say Ben was family. He may be my stepbrother, but family doesn't do that to each other.

Ben was **not** my brother. Not my step brother. Nothing. He was nothing but a monster.

People in the halls, that knew him, would ask me if we were related.

I would say no, but I wasn't lying.

The definition of family is people that care about each other and wouldn't do anything bad to each other.

That may not be what the dictionary says, but that's what it means.

He doesn't fit that definition, and he never will. He ruined it for himself. He'll never fit in at our house again.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to delve any deeper into my easily accessable, yet unwanted, memories.

I flicked myself in the forehead, trying to scare those memories away. Make them go to the back of my mind, and stay there.

My thoughts swam around in my head for a while, before my brain chose a certain one. I started thinking about English.

Well, kind of.

I thought about the language, not the subject.

Mr. Kole should be happy he's getting that out of me. I haven't participated in any of my english classes for years. It doesn't interest me.

Have you ever noticed how weird the English language Is? Have you ever noticed how, sometimes, we only talk about certain things when they aren't there?

Have you ever heard of a _horseful_ carriage? Or a _strapful_ gown?

What about a _sung_ hero? Ever met one?

Me neither.

And why does your house burn up while it burns down?

Why do we park on the driveway and drive on the parkway?

Why do we have feet that smell and noses that run?

I don't know.

Why is it that when the stars are out, you can see them, but when the lights are out, you can't see them?

I've got no clue.

Why do they call it eggplant if there's no egg in it?

Why is there no apple in pineapple?

And French fries. Why do they call them French fries when they weren't made in France?

Why do we play at a recital, and recite at a play?

Why don't we ever hear anything about the people who actually _would_ hurt a fly?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, shouldn't the plural of booth be beeth?

And why do they say the teacher taught, but they don't say the preacher praught?

The plural of goose is geese, so shouldn't the plural of moose be meese?

Why do they call them babysitters, when they don't actually sit on a baby?

When you wind up a clock you start it, so why when you wind up a speech do you end it?

If Vegetable Oil is made of vegetables, what is Baby Oil made of?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same?

How come a wise man and a wise guy are different?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Why does our alarm clock go off by going on?

Why are there such sick, sick monsters out there? Monsters that rape their step-sisters? Monsters like Ben.

**_ahhh, omg this is so short. It's killing me. I cannot believe I didn't add this to the last chapter the first time I wrote this story!!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_okay, I do believe this chapter is a teensy bit longer, although not by much, it previously had a HUGE author's note..._**

After school, I forced my feet to move, one in front of the other, left, right, left, right, and walked down to the beach. I stood, hidden in the shadows, by the bathrooms near Rico's and watched Jackson give smoothies to random, happy, people.

Lilly, Oliver, Gwen, and Kevin all walked up to the bar and sat down, like nothing was wrong. Of course, nothing _was _wrong. Not for them.

They hardly ever hung out anymore, so I could tell this was a rare situation. They were probably talking about me, and what an attention seeking, tattling whore they _think _I am.

I sat in the sand, with my knees pulled up to my chin and my arms wrapped around them, holding me together. If I let go, I knew I'd shatter into a million tiny pieces. I was already cracking, just sitting there, watching them.

I watched my ex-friends decide what they wanted and start to order. I paid special attention to Lilly, who didn't seem capable of keeping eye contact with Jackson anymore. She knew what he thought of her. He didn't believe the lies people told about me. Jackson didn't know _why _I called the police, but he knew I had a good reason. That was because he knew me. We might not have got along very well, but Jackson knew me, and he cared about what happened to me.

Jackson looked at the traitorous murderers of trust in front of him, slowly shook his head, with disappointment, and took their orders like he didn't know them.

It meant a lot to me to know that my brother, however weird he may be, would always be on my side.

Lilly ordered a strawberry smoothie, and started talking to Gwen. I knew she ordered that, because she always did, no matter what. It was a tradition. I'd order blueberry, she'd order strawberry. Not anymore. Blueberry makes me sick. Blue makes me sick. Food makes me sick. Lilly, makes me sick.

Once Rico's father agreed to spend a little money on a smoothie machine, she'd ordered a Strawberry smoothie every day since. I knew her. I knew every little detail about her. I knew myself too. I knew that if Lilly had done something like I had, I would still be on her side. I'd always known that she would flake out on me eventually. She'd changed. She'd been doing it for years, but now her transformation was complete. She was finally a butterfly, an evil butterfly, but a butterfly none the less. She wasn't a caterpillar anymore.

I watched Oliver sigh, the way he always did, roll his eyes, exactly how he used too, and lean back in his chair, with a familiar bored expression on his face, before he got up and made his way over to the bathrooms. He saw me looking at him, stared at me for a couple seconds, like he was deciding something, and then he nodded. It was a small nod, something he could deny if anybody mentioned it, but he still acknowledged me. But as quickly as it happened, he ignored me again, and went into the bathroom.

I could feel a headache coming. A strong, painful one, like a hurricane, about to smash into the back of my head. I needed to go over there, but I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move. The hurricane in my head hit the coast though, so I forced my parylized body to stand up and stand behind my new-found enemies.

Jackson turned away from the nachos he was making, saw me, nodded, and started making me a smoothie he made only for me. It was sort of a secret recipe, I didn't really know what was in it. I trusted it wasn't poisonous though, so I always drank it.

He held it out towards me and turned around to get a straw. I reached over Lilly's shoulder and wrapped my fingers the cup. The coldness seeped through my fingers and throughout the rest of my body. Lilly wrapped her arms around herself, like she could feel the cold too, although I knew she couldn't.

I knew that Lilly knew I was there, I was so far into her bubble, she couldn't deny I was there, but she ignored me anyways. Kevin and Gwen, being somewhat good people, at least had the courtesy to look at me.

I quickly turned away with my smoothie without paying for it. Jackson would take care of that for me. He knew I wasn't feeling well.

By the time I got home, I had eaten the entire smoothie, and Hurricane Miley was gone.

When I have a headache, I eat one of Jackson's special pain killer smoothies really fast, and my brain goes numb, so it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm not sure why it works, but some combination of smoothie ingredients, unknown to me, works better than Tylenol or Advil.

Jackson always teases me about it, trying to get me to smile, which I don't do, by telling me that these smoothies are made of the most fattening things behind the counter at Rico's, but I don't believe him. If that were true, I'd be as big as a house.

Literally.

A big house. A mansion. I already feel like one. I always feel like I'm taking up way more room than anybody else. With a secret like mine though, following me around like my shadow, that's bound to happen.

I went inside, through the back door of my overly air conditioned house and dumped my empty smoothie cup in the garbage before running upstairs to my room and locking the door. I laid in my closet for a while, staring at the ceiling, like I always did after school. All I wanted was to be by myself, without my memories, for at least a couple hours.

I heard my dad calling my name eventually, so I lifted my head high enough so that I could see my alarm clock.

6:17.

Time for dinner.

I sat up, wiped my dry eyes, and went downstairs. The second I walked into the kitchen though, my eyes went straight to the floor, automatically. Like they always did. I couldn't look at him.

I ate some of my dinner, just enough to keep my dad from griping me about it, and continued to stare at my green beans the entire time.

"Miles, is something wrong?" Dad asked me, nonchalantly. Like it was something small, that he could get me some aspirin for, and stop caring about.

"Nope." I lied. I'd turned myself into quite the liar these past few weeks.

"She's probably worrying about midterms." Ben said, like he wasn't an evil, cold hearted, monster.

"They ain't 'til next week, man." Jackson said, with his voice muffled, undoubtedly, by the food stuffed in his mouth.

"So. That doesn't mean she can't worry about them." Ben argued, like he was normal. He wasn't though.

I was really, hungry, but I lost my appetite the second I felt his hand on my thigh.

I stood up so quickly, dropping my fork, that I nearly knocked over the entire table. I ignored my dad and step-mom, and shoved my dishes into their spot in the dishwasher, before I went back upstairs to my closet. Where I was safe. I sat on the floor for a while, before I got up, closed the door behind me, and laid down on my bed. I covered my face with the blanket until I felt like I was about to sweat to death.

I'm not so sure that would be a bad thing anymore. Not really. Not for me. Not really for anyone else either.

In about five minutes, I'm estimating, Linda came in my room to say good night. I just looked at her. She didn't ask me what was wrong anymore. By know she knew I wouldn't tell her. She turned out the light and left, but I didn't dare close my eyes.

After a while though, I had to. My eyelids were so heavy, they were forcing themselves shut.

I couldn't help it. If I had had a choice, I wouldn't have done it, but my body wanted to sleep, so that's what it did. I gave in to exhaustion and closed my eyes.

It was only for a minute, I swear.

But for some reason, that was enough for him to get into my room without me knowing it. Why didn't I lock the door?

While my eyes were closed, He snuck up to my bed.

I opened my eyes the second he grabbed my hands and squeaked.

Yes.

I_ squeaked._

I could've screamed, but I didn't.

I _squeaked._

What is wrong with me?

He looked at me, and said,

"You aren't scared of me, are you? You shouldn't be. I won't hurt you." He lied.

"I love you Miley, I wouldn't hurt you." Liar. LIAR. LIAR! YOU SICK, SICK, LIAR!!

I grabbed ahold of the repulsive wrist that was clinging to my left hand and dug my fingernails into it.

He pulled it away and slapped me across the face. I didn't make any noise though. That slap echoed through the room though. How couldn't they hear it?

Then he grabbed my hands again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Among other things.

He climbed up onto my bed and sat on me. All the while, I stayed silent. Next, he brushed my hair out of my face, and leaned forward, staring at me with his disgusting rapist eyes.

I just don't get this guy. If you're gonna rape somebody, don't act like you care about them, because you obviously don't.

The next thing he did made me wanna throw up even more than I had before.

He _kissed_ me.

Almost 5 whole seconds later, he had already forced his tongue down my throat. I was trying to push him off of me, trying to get his nasty tongue out of my mouth, but I couldn't. Every muscle in his body was too strong for me, even his tongue. I was too weak. I was so, so weak.

I closed my eyes, and tried to think about something else. Make it go by quickly. There was no use in fighting him. I'd tried it last time, and it did nothing. It wasn't working now either. I know you're not supposed to give in, but he lived in my house, and if I made him mad, I didn't know what he'd do.

If I tried to fight him, the only person that got hurt was me.

I remembered, unwillingly, the last time this had happened. The last time I could remember. There were big blank spots in my mind now. Whole hours where I couldn't remember anything.

_"Here." Ben gave me a glass of what he said was punch. _

_It wasn't. __I didn't realize that until later though._

_About an hour later, I was starting to feel sick, and I knew my friends wouldn't want to leave yet, so I made a mistake._

_I asked Ben for a ride._

_"Sure." He said, looking at me weird. I didn't recognize the look on his face, I was too sick._

_We went out to his car, but I stopped. __I could feel it coming up, so I pulled my hair back, and I threw up into the gravel._

_Then, I realized what that little bit of 'punch' I'd drank really was. I'd been drinking, but alcohol wouldn't have made me feel like this. My brain was freaking out, and I couldn't concentrate very well. Weird thoughts were going through my head. I wanted to say things I normally wouldn't. I stopped myself though. I hadn't had enough of that punch to render me helpless. _

_I looked up at Ben, not believing what he had done to me. It would only get worse after that. I thought he repulsed me then, but it was nothing compared to what I would feel later._

_What he said next surprised me though, and my mind blanked for a minute._

_"You're so beautiful."_

_I looked at him, with a very disgusted, and sort of confused expression, I can imagine._

_"What?" I asked him, spitting up the last bit of vomit._

_He grabbed me and smashed his lips against mine. I pushed him away, turned my head, and threw up in his truck._

_He did it again, not caring about the vomit that was still coating the inside of my mouth._

_And he did it again_

_and again._

_Pretty soon, he was doing more than that, and I was too tired of trying to push him away. I tried to scream, but my stomach acid had pretty much burned up my throat. Nothing would come out. I was mute. _

_He climbed on top of me, in the back of his truck, and the minute he did, I could feel him against my leg. I could tell this sick freak was really enjoying this._

_I know that he knew it was wrong. He had to._

_I really want to know why, though._

_Why?_

_Why? Why? Why? Why?_

_He pulled away for a second, and I bit him, as hard as I could._

_Big mistake._

_He just smacked my head against the side of his truck, and everything went black._

_All I know, is when I woke up, he was leaning against the truck next to his, with a satisfied smirk on his face._

_I could tell by the pain I was feeling, just how far he'd gone. It was the most horrible feeling I'd ever felt. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't. Instead, I scrambled out of the truck, fixed my clothes, and tried to run to the house, but I was in so much pain, that I couldn't. I wobbled down the sidewalk instead._

Why did he do this to me?

**_Haha, this is just like writing an entirely new story lol_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Man, I am getting so tired of making these chapters longer...it's taking forever...whatever, practice makes (nearly) perfect._**

When the sunlight finally creeped around the blinds on my windows the next morning, I didn't notice.

I didn't notice when Linda came in and told me to get ready for school.

I didn't notice my dad, telling me I'd be late.

I _did_ notice Jackson threatening me with his newly aquired rubber chicken, but pretended not to.

I just nodded when my dad asked me if I'd be okay home alone, but didn't notice when he left.

I didn't notice anything going on around me.

I just laid on my bed with the blankets pulled up to my chin, like it could keep all the bad stuff out.

My eyes were open, but I couldn't see anything. I was blind inside. When I finally could see, all I saw was the ceiling.

I looked at my clock. I don't know why. It's not like the time was going to influence anything I did today.

8:45

9:30

10:20

11:40

12:05

1:10

1:45

I was really hungry. All I'd had for dinner was a bite of green beans and a slice of homemade bread. Finally, I got up and went into the kitchen to get something to eat.

Nobody had gone grocery shopping, I could tell, and all that was left in the refrigerator was a banana, an apple, and some moldy ham.

I chose the banana and went back to my room to eat it. I tossed the peel in the garbage and got back in bed, where I laid in bed until everybody else went to sleep, skipping dinner, even though they begged me to get out of bed for that. They were all tired of trying to convince me to leave my room, and had quit a long time ago.

They'd tried therapy every night for about a week, but the therapist had figured out I wasn't going to say anything, and just prescribed some anti-depression pills, that didn't work. They'd all decided to just give me some time.

When I finally forced myself out of bed, again, it was 11:30 pm. I stiffly hobbled to my closet and put on the first bikini I could find. I wanted to wear a one piece, but unfortunately, I hadn't owned one of those since the seventh grade. I wish I'd been fat. Then I'd have a one piece. Maybe if I'd been fat, Ben wouldn't have been so attracted to me.

I dug a towel out of a pile of things I didn't use anymore, and tip-toed downstairs. I snuck out of the house and went down to the beach, by myself, where there was nobody else. I desperately wanted to be alone, where I could hear or see nobody. This was the perfect place to do it. Nobody came down this far anymore, there were to many rocks for surfing, and the trees usually blocked the sun.

I dropped my towel in the sand, stripped down, and went down to the water. I normally don't go out in the nude anywhere where somebody could possibly see me, but I didn't want anything holding me in. I didn't need any pressure, of any kind, right now.

Somehow, I could tell the water was cold, just by looking at it. I needed that though. I wanted to be cold. I'd been burning up for weeks, inside and out.

I stuck my left foot into the water and quickly pulled it back out.

I was right.

It _was_ cold.

I took a deep breath, stared at the moon's reflection on the surface of the ocean, and ran into the water to meet it.

I could feel my legs, arms, shoulders, knees, feet, everything, turning purple, the color of a fresh bruise, the second my feet left the ground. I was all one color now, maybe.

I dunked my head underneath, and stayed there for as long as I could, trying to cool off my entire body. Eventually, I couldn't breath anymore, so I came up for air. I wish I was a fish. Then I wouldn't have to bother with air, or with Ben.

There was this kid in a book I read in the eighth grade, who went into some really cold water really early in the morning just to numb himself. _He_ was a criminal, but _I _felt like one. Maybe it would work for me. I needed to numb myself.

I wonder how long it'd take me to freeze my entire body. Somebody would probably see me by then.

It started to hurt to breath, and my legs were getting tired of keeping me above the surface. After about 10 minutes in the water, I felt like I was about to die of hypothermia, so I got out. Maybe I should've kept swimming.

Once I found my towel, in the dark, I tiredly put my swimsuit back on, although I barely had the energy to, and spread the towel out on the sand and laid down.

This was one of the only places I could close my eyes and actually feel safe. Ben didn't go to the beach. There were too many people there. Too many chances that somebody might see him for what he was.

It seemed like maybe one second before I was awakened by something falling on me.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing. There was something over my face. I pushed somebody's sweatshirt off of my head, and saw the silouette of a boy standing in front of me. Relief washed over me. I was extremely glad I'd put on my bathing suit. Otherwise this would've been even weirder.

It was too dark to tell who it was, but the second he spoke I knew exactly who this temporary stranger was, even though he hadn't actually talked to me for about four whole months.

"Sorry. You looked cold."

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see Oliver clearly, and he looking at me, like he used to. Like I was his friend, and he wasn't going to deny seeing me down here tomorrow.

I looked down at my arms and saw my bruises apearing again, now that I was pale once more, so I put the sweatshirt on, and pulled my knees up to my chin, before he noticed. It smelled really good. His mom must've just washed it. I don't remember Oliver smelling like this. Maybe he did. I hadn't actually smelled him before. Maybe his sweatshirt only smelled good to me because I missed having him as a friend so much. I missed all of my friends. I blame this stupid secret for pushing them away.

"Thanks." I told him, tucking my knees under the sweatshirt with the rest of me. I had lost some weight over the last few weeks, I knew I wouldn't stretch it out. I wouldn't have cared if I did, anyways.

"Why are you out here?" He asked me, like it was his question to ask.

"I was trying to die of hypothermia, but you interrupted me." I answered plainly, as he sat down in the sand next to me.

He studied my moonlit face like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. He obviously thought I was, because he said,

"Life can't be that bad."

"Oh, but it is." I said, keeping my tone steady. I was finally starting to shiver. I wrapped my arms around my body tighter, more to hold myself together than to keep me warm.

He gave me a disbelieving look, so I told him,

"Everybody hates me, including my ex-best friends, because they all believe a lie."

"I don't hate you." He told me.

"You aren't comfortable sitting here with me. That tells me you believe that load of shit everyone else believes."

"What...load of shit?" Oliver'd never been into foul language much. He was one of the few popular kids that didn't curse if they could help it. I usually didn't either, but I didn't know any other way to describe this particular lie.

I sighed, and calmly summorized the many rumors I'd heard recently,

"That I'm a slut and slept with my own step brother, after downing a dozen bottles of vodka that I stole from Dave Petrowski's fridge at his graduation party, and to top it all off, I called the police and ran just because I wanted to get everybody in trouble."

Oliver said nothing. Crickets started to chirp. It was like the audience after that concert I'd had, where Jackson'd been playing around with the microphones, and accidentally switched all the speakers to his. It'd been horrible. Jackson can't sing.

"It's not true Oliver."

"I...it's just...well...Carl Steimley saw you, and...he...he..." He stared right at me. "He has pictures Miley. Pictures. Proof."

"That's not proof of anything Oliver."

"It is, Miley, Everybody has seen them. I've seen them Miles. It _is_ proof." I looked up at him, surprised he'd called me Miles. Even when we were friends, he hadn't done that. He'd called me Miley, or Hannah, depending on which identity I was using at the time.

"Nobody believes me...I am such a horrible person...I can't even convince you, and no offense, but you are the most gullible person I know."

"I am _not_ gullible." He replied, shaking his head, with a smile on his face. How could he be smiling?

Don't smile Oliver. Don't smile.

"Did you know that's the only word that isn't in the dictionary?" I asked him.

"Really?" He asked, a shocked expression on his face. As if it mattered what words were in the dictionary.

"My point exactly."

"Huh?" He asked, confused. "...So if that isn't what really happened...what is?"

"I can't tell you." i said, simply.

"Why not?" He asked.

"You wouldn't believe me. You've already made your opinion."

"Just try me." He demanded, leaning back, supporting himself with his elbows.

I laid back down on my towel and told him,

"Just leave me alone. Go home Oliver."

"I can't. My parents are fighting again."

"It can't be as bad as what I've gone through."

He didn't have anything to say after that, so he got up, said "Bye." and left. I fell asleep on the beach, and finally went home after the sun started coming up.

I went into my room and locked the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Ahh, this is even shorter than the last one!! What was wrong with me when I wrote this? Wait, don't answer that._**

I leaned against the door and sighed.

It was a sigh of relief. I was safely in my room now. With the door locked.

I slid down the wall and let out a breath. Looking down, I realized I was still wearing Oliver's sweatshirt.

It was blue and said Seaview Middle School across the front, in white letters.

Oh how I wish I was still in middle school.

Everything would be different.

Everybody would be different.

I would be different.

My entire life would be different.

I don't want to blame my dad's happiness on what happened to me, but if he hadn't met Linda, I would be fine. I would be happy, but my dad wouldn't.

Why can't I just be the most hideous creature on the planet? Then, Ben would stay away from me.

I forced myself to open the doors to the Hannah closet. It was extremely dusty in there, I hadn't cleaned, let alone opened the door, in months. I crawled inside, and sat in the ugly recliner in the middle of the room. I settled myself in the middle of it, and closed my eyes. I couldn't get comfortable, so I turned around, and put my feet over one arm rest, and rested my head on the other.

For some reason, the cold water and talking with Oliver had made me really tired. I'd slept throughout the day, off and on, and had probably got at least 13 hours, of shallow sleep in. I was exhausted though.

I actually fell asleep. For real. A deep sleep. My eyes were closed, I was even snoring. I was even dreaming.

_What seemed like everybody I knew was sitting in my closet. It was much cleaner in there, but everything was arranged the way it was in my real life. It couldn't be the past._

_"Oh Miley. It's so great you're back." Dream Traci assured me. I wondered to myself how she knew my name. Traci only knew Hannah. I would've disgusted her._

_"Yeah. I missed you so much" Dream Lilly, who was sitting on a navy blue trunk in the corner of the room, told me. If this hadn't of been a dream, I would've cried. Or maybe I would've punched her. I'm not sure what I would've done. I didn't know how I felt about her anymore. i wasn't sure if I should hate her, or forgive her._

_"I didn't." Dream Amber and Dream Ashley said at the same time, from their position on the floor in front of my rotating clothes rack._

_"Oooh Ssss..." I rolled my dream self's eyes, but for some reason, hearing them say that meant a lot. It meant they only hated me a little, like they used to. _

_"Me neither." Dream Dandruff Danny chimed. He didn't really matter. I cared not, whether Danny liked me or hated me._

_"**I** missed you...If that counts for anything." Dream dad said, smiling at me from his spot in the room, next to Amber and Ashley on the floor. I think that probably meant the most. Dad had seen me every day, but that he acknowledged the change in my personality, even if he was only saying it in a dream, meant a lot._

_"Hey!! Miley! I told you to get that air vent fixed! At this rate you'll have a closet full of sumo wrestlers by easter." Dream Roxy griped. I wanted to give her a big hug, for trying to protect me, even if it hadn't worked before._

_"Ooh ooh ooh, hey! Miley!" Dream Nick Jonas yelled at me, waving his arms in the air, in a fashion that was 100 percent not him._

_"What?" I asked annoyed by one third of the Jonas Brothers. Anything to stop his helicopter arms._

_"We wrote a song about you!" His dream brothers anwered for him._

_Dream Jackson picked up a guitar, although the real Jackson couldn't play, and said,_

_"I helped."_

_He strummed a chord and they started singing._

_"A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true." _

_They paused for a minute, to allow Dream Jackson his horribly unappropriate guitar solo, and started singing again._

_"A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're feeling small, yeah. Alone in the night you whisper, thinking no one can hear you at all. You wake with the morning sunlight, to find fortune that is smiling on you. Don't let your heart be filled with sorrow, for all you know, tomorrow, the dream that you wish will come true, oooh, yeah."_

_"Guys, I hate to break it to you, but somebody wrote that song like, ten years ago." Dream Lilly said, in a tone that suggested she **didn't **hate to break it to them._

_"Oh yeah, who?" Dream Joe asked._

_"Dora the Explorer, duh."_

_"No, it was Barney." Dream Oliver argued. I hadn't noticed him before. He'd been quiet. I noticed he was wearing his sweatshirt...so what was I wearing? I looked down and saw that I was naked. Why were they acting like I wasn't? This was extremely weird_

_"You know what, who cares?" Dream Gwen said, reading my mind, as she filed her nails, with her legs crossed, sititng next to Dream Lilly._

_"I do!" Dream Kevin shouted._

_"I believe it was David Spade that sang that there song." Dream LouAnn announced, appearing out of nowhere. She was __standing in the corner wearing a blue bikini top, some yellow sweat pants, and an ugly green scarf. She looked ridiculous, which made me feel better._

_I'd almost forgot what was going on in my real life, until __Madonna waltzed in with my dad's scary leg table, and Rosie O' Donnell climbed out of a tiny box, that never in a million years would she fit in, sitting on the floor._

_"Wear your underwear!" She said, pointing at me suspiciously._

_"I know Rosie, I am." I remembered her saying a similar thing to me when I'd been on The View, way back before she'd been kicked off. A memory from my real life drug back a ton of others with it._

_"Good. I don't want you to end up like that girl on The Doodlebops."_

_I wondered what she meant. The girl on The Doodlebops was just fine, as far as I knew. I hadn't heard anything about a drug overdose, or streaking in the middle of the grocery store. Dream Rosie was weirder than real Rosie._

_"I won't, don't worry." I said, using the same tone I'd been using all through the dream, although I didn't want to say anything at all._

_" Hey!! We should have a pool party!" Ricky Ullman yelled, jumping out of a pile of clothes._

_"Where at?" Dream Teri Hatcher asked._

_"Too the bathtub!!" Dream Madonna yelled, before she ran out of the room, followed by nobody._

_"Who's for locking her out?" The guy in the Allstate commercials, whose real name I didn't know, asked._

_Everybody raised their hands except for George W. Bush._

_Every human in the room, and LuAnn, stared at him._

_He sighed, said, __"Fine." __and raised his hand._

_Orlando Bloom closed and locked, although my real closet door had no lock, the door and said,_

_"Who wants to go to Burger King and pick all the ends off their fries?"_

_Everybody raised their hands this time, including Dream George._

_"Ok, who's limo are we taking? My driver drove mine off a cliff this morning." Dream Orlando announced._

_LuAnn raised her hand._

_"You don't **have** a limo." Lilly announced._

_"Oh...I thought you said llama."_

_"That'll work. Let's go." Roxy yelled. I wanted to cry, and I wanted say that LuAnn didn't have a llama either, but I didn't do either._

_Everybody, except for Madonna, filed out of the room and left me all alone. _

_Again._

I woke to a pounding at my door.

"Miles, you in there?" Came a voice.

I opened the door enough to see the person, since I was so out of it I couldn't recognize the voice.

"Daddy." I breathed, before throwing the door open. I hugged him, which obviously surprised him. I hadn't hugged, let alone talked to, my dad for weeks.

"I love you." I told him, pressing my face into his chest, where I was safe.

He cautiously wrapped an arm around me and told me,

"I love you too, bud."

Too bad he didn't add "I won't ever let anything happen to you." like I wanted him to.

**_Wow, that was an extremo weirdo chaptero...it was fun though, I don't even remember this..._**


	7. Chapter 7

**_I really want to finish redoing all of this right now, but it's getting late...I don't have to be to work until 1 tomorrow, I'll stay up late I guess...you better appreciate it!_**

I stood in front of the school I hated and watched everybody I hated go inside.

They all looked happy.

Sure, there were those overly dramatic girls who create drama just so they'll have something to cry about, but they're happy.

In the movies, when people are happy, it's boring.

In real life, you want to be boring. At least, I do. Hannah kind of ruined it for me at first, as I was always nervous and extremely tired, but I got used to it. Eventually it was all normal, I was happy, and life was boring again.

The warning bell broke the silence and I snapped back to reality. I hurried inside to my locker and got some of my books, before wracking my brain for the name and direction of the class I was supposed to be in.

The hallways were empty when I figured it out. I just barely made it to my next class, and slid into my seat just as the late bell rang.

The teacher raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing. She'd figured me out, by then. I was the depressed, psycho girl. The one you didn't yell at, in fear that she'd bring a gun to school the next day and shoot you. She was smart, in a way, not to yell at me. Not that I would ever bring a gun to school. What she understood was that I would probably crack, eventually. If only everybody else understood that. It'd be nice if they'd quit beating my shell on the edge of the bowl.

The rest of the day was normal as it can be for somebody like me.

In science we all failed a quiz because Mr. Petrakis had erased our notes before we could write them down. Miss Pilton almost put me asleep, Hair Lady couldn't get anybody to listen. It was very normal. It was almost like the world was stuck , on one very normal day. Every day was the same. It kept repeating.

In History, I got yelled at the second I stepped through the door.

"Miss Stewart! This would be how many detentions that you've skipped this year, exactly?" Mr Knee asked me, in that tone that said he was going to give me another. It didn't scare me.

_Four detentions, that's how many. _

I just shrugged and slid into my seat, ignoring him.

"Four!" He yelled. "And what do you get when you skip a detention?"

_Another Detention_

I just looked at him.

"Another detention." He said aloud.

"And...what do you get when you skip five detentions?"

_Suspended_

"You get suspended, that's what."

That's only when you get them all in one quarter. I've only got two this quarter. Mr. Knee obviously didn't read the handbook.

He was determined, however, to get rid of me, one way or another, and I didn't know why. I didn't argue with him, I did my homework, I took my tests, I at least _tried _to listen during class, which is more than I can say for my fellow classmates.

"Go to the office." He told me quietly. I got up and went down to the office. I took my time though. I was in no hurry to do anything, even if it meant going home early and sitting in my closet for hours on end, which is exactly what I wanted to do.

When I got down there, the secretary frowned at me. She knew what had happened. Mr Knee gave me detentions for no reason all the time, and she didn't like it, but she could do nothing about it, as long as there was _some _explanation for my punishment.

She pointed to a chair for me to sit in, and I sat in that chair for ten minutes, staring at the floor, until my dad got there. He rested his hand lightly on my shoulder. I could tell he was disappointed without even looking at him.

The principal came out and told us to come into his office.

"Mr. Stewart. Your daughter has skipped four detentions this year. As punishment, she gets another detention, and when a student gets five detentions, we have to suspend them. From what we heard from the middle school, Millie-

"Miley." My dad corrected.

I looked at him and wanted to smile.

"_Miley _has never acted like this before."

"She wasn't like this until she started coming here. She never got a detention before. What happened to my daughter, sir? What are you people doing to her?" Dad asked calmly. I could tell he was angry though. He blamed my change in personality on the school.

"She hardly ever talks to me anymore! She doesn't talk to _anybody_!" Dad yelled.

Mr. Finley turned to me, but I didn't look at him. I stared at my father, from under the curtain of hair hanging in my face.

"Mill_- Miley..._do you have anything to say about this?" Mr. Finley asked, catching himself before mispronouncing my name again.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ugly painting hanging above his head. I didn't have anything to say, so why waste energy opening my mouth?

"Great. Now she's mute. You people are...you people are just...we're leaving, come on Miley."

Leaving the school, I was secretly grateful that Mr. Finley was the principal now. He new as well as anybody that I only has two detentions this quarter. He'd suspended me just so I could go home.

We got in the car, and dad turned to look at me.

He could obviously tell it wasn't a good time to reprimand me, so he started the car, and drove us home.

"I'm very disappointed in you." He told me before getting out of the car and entering the house.

I sat in the car for almost an hour, before he came back out and told me to come inside.

When I finally did come in, he was sitting on the couch looking through a Home Decor magazine. I stood in the doorway for a minute, but he pretended not to notice me.

So I went upstairs.

I hid in my closet, because I can't remember in my closet. My mind goes blank in there. It's like magic.

I sat down on the floor and put a check mark on the wall. It was the 121st check mark.

121 days since it happened, and I was still alive.

I hadn't died.

I hadn't killed myself.

I'd thought about it. I'd thought about cutting myself. I'd thought about doing drugs.

But that would just make it harder.

That would make him feel like he'd succeeded. He has though. He killed me.

A couple hours later, after everybody had come home, I heard a knock on the door.

"Hmm...?" I answered

"Your father and I are going to pick out paint for the hallway and our bedroom. We'll be back in an hour." Linda yelled through the wood.

"Mmm Hmm." I replied, spreading out on the floor.

I heard her walk away, and then it hit me.

HE was here. They were leaving me alone with HIM.

I shoved the closet door open and ran out the door, which probably wasn't that smart.

He grabbed me around the neck the second I rounded the corner, and pushed me against the wall.

He covered my mouth with his hand and looked down the hallway, listening. The door closed, the car started, and they drove away. It was safe for him to do as he liked.

I bit his hand, and he let go, looking surprised that I would do something like that. Why though? Didn't he know how much I hated him?

I ran up the stairs and up into the attic. I shoved the door in the floor down and sat on it.

Then, he tried to open it.

This was the only time in my life that I would ever wish, honestly, that I weighed 300 pounds.

I was knocked off the door when he shoved it open, and he looped an arm around my waist. He carried me down the stairs, and all the while, I was screaming and clawing, kicking, biting him. Why couldn't the neighbors hear me?

He set me down and shoved me onto the couch, standing way too close to give me room to get away. With an anguished look on his face, he pulled out a gun.

He had a gun.

He was going to kill me.

I was going to die.

At least it would finally be over.

"Why won't you love me?" He asked, as a tear rolled down his red face. I sat there, parylized, as he started crying. "Why? I love you, more than anything, but you won't return the favor! I'm not gonna let you have anybody else. You won't get away from me!" He yelled.

I was scared beyond words. My brain wasn't even comprehending what was going on. It was like somebody had poured coffee on the computer in my head. For the longest minute of my life, I just sat there. i could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway upstairs go off, five times. It distracted him for a second, so I tried to get up. I almost got away, but he caught me and shoved me onto the ground, where he smashed my head against the coffee table.

Everything went black.

When I started waking up, I could feel him on top of me. Not again. No.

He was heavy.

As everything started appearing, I heard the door open.

"What's going on?" A familiar, although disgusted and angry, voice asked.

It was Jackson.

"Jackson..." I managed to get out the two syllables.

"Run..."

I started crying, when I couldn't speak loud enough for him to hear me. Ben slapped me and yelled, "Shut up!"

My face stung.

"Get away from her!" Jackson yelled.

Ben got up and started going after Jackson, who ran into the kitchen. Ben followed him.

I got up and tried to follow them, but I couldn't. It hurt too much. I hurt everywhere. every square inch of my body felt like it was dying.

I pulled my jeans back up and pulled my shirt on the rest of the way. I tried to hobble to the kitchen, but I couldn't make it.

Ben and Jackson came back into the room, by the stairs.

Jackson had a knife.

Ben had his gun.

Ben raised his gun, and Jackson stabbed him in the leg. Blood started squirting out of the hole in his leg, and I wanted to vomit.

Ben cringed, a pain-filled look on his face, and pulled the knife out.

He started chasing Jackson up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood down the middle of the staircase.

The site of it made me want to throw up.

I did.

Jackson shoved Ben against the wall, and Ben pointed his gun at Jackson, before Jackson could raise his knife.

"No!" I screamed.

Ben knocked the knife out of Jackson's hand, and pointed the gun at me.

He fired it, and he missed.

I tried to get away.

He fired again., and he missed. Again.

"Stop it!" Jackson yelled, and shoved him just as Ben pulled the trigger.

The bullet shot out of the gun and hit me in the shoulder.

I fell to the ground in more pain than I had ever been in before which, for me, was quite an accomplishment.

"Oh no...oh no...what did I do? No, no, Miley I didn't mean it...baby I didn't mean it!" Ben yelled, from the stairs, as he tried to come down them. Jackson stopped him, and held him against the wall, trying to wrestle the gun away

The site of my own blood, mixed with the words of adoration Ben was mixing into his sentences made me want to vomit.

I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I used my good arm to hold me up. My shoulder was already going numb, and everything was going blurry.

Then, I heard another gunshot.

Jackson fell down the stairs, and slid a couple feet across the ground, stopping at my feet.

He had a hole in his stomach and there was blood pouring out like...well, this would be a bad time to talk about Uncle Earl.

I vomited. Again. And Again. I couldn't stop, and it hurt, really really bad. It was burning.

Then, Ben was in my face, looking angry again.

"You tell anybody...And I'll make sure you die the most painful death possible."

I vomited on him.

Then, I passed out.

* * *

I woke up, and Linda and my dad were hovering over me.

"Oh my god." Linda exclaimed. She was crying.

My dad started crying. I'd never seen him do that before. It was weird. I wasn't so sure why exactly he was doing it, which made it even weirder. Linda went out in the hallway and dad pulled me into a hug.

The only person not crying was in the doorway.

It was Ben.

He glared at me.

I stared at him, trying to remember why exactly I hated him. He turned around and left the room, and it all came back to me. I started breathing hard, and my heart was racing.

"Where's Jackson?" I asked dad, frantically.

He looked at Linda, who had just come back in, and then at me.

"He hasn't woke up yet bud."

I started crying too.

"He's dead, isn't he? Tell me!! Please…"

I started crying more.

I couldn't breathe.

"He's ok Miles. He's still alive." My dad said. Still...that meant for now.

"Daddy…" I said.

I let out a breath.

He sat down on my bed, and started stroking my hair. My tears dried up, probably for good again, and I said,

"I wanna see Jackson."

"Miles, you've been in a coma for three weeks. Stay in bed."

"_I want to see Jackson._" I insisted.


	8. Chapter 8

**_I'm extremely tired, and this is taking forever, so this may be the last one I do tonight. Hopefully it's better though...I found when I was writing this the first time that my better chapters were always written when I was really tired.

* * *

_**

He's just laying there.

His face is whiter than Santa Clause's beard, after he washes it, that is.

He looks dead. His chest is rising and falling, slightly, so I now he isn't, but still, it feels like he is.

And it's all my fault.

_No it's not_

Oh no, not you. The stupid voice in my head that always gets me in trouble.

_I'm not the stupid one._

What's that supposed to mean?

_You know._

No I don't. Just shut up.

_Hey, I'm the voice in **your** head. You can't tell me to shut up._

I blinked away the tears that were coming to my eyes, and reached out to touch his hand.

It was warm. I don't know what I expected it to feel like, but warm was not it.

I inhaled, trying to stop myself from crying, but it didn't work.

I swallowed and wiped my eyes. I didn't get why I was crying now. I hadn't been able to for the longest time, but now I couldn't quit.

In about two seconds, I went from calm to hysterical. I don't even know why. Something just started freaking out in my brain, blaming me for everything. I couldn't take it.

My dad grabbed my hand and tried to comfort me, but it didn't work. A nurse rushed inside, and I was wheeled back down the hall in complete hysterics. When I finally stopped freaking out, it was dark, and the nurse was telling my dad that he had to leave my room.

He was arguing with her, but she won. No visitors. You're welcome to stay in the waiting room, but the patients need sleep.

"Good night Miles, I'll see you in the morning, ok?" He told me, trying to comfort me.

I nodded.

"I love you." I nodded again.

After he left, I started crying again. Not as hard as before. This was just because I was sad, not because my brain was malfunctioning.

He was trying to make it seem like this was just an ordinary day. It is not, was not, will not. None of my days will ever be normal ever again.

I found the call button on the railing of the piece of cardboard they called a bed, just in case. Just in case I needed it. I probably won't need it. But you can never be too careful.

I fell asleep, but the first thing I saw when I woke up wasn't the ceiling, like I had expected.

It was Oliver.

"How come every time I open my eyes, I see you?" I asked him, perturbed.

"Oh god, Miley. I, I just, I can't believe this." He started babbling, so I tuned him out.

"Well, I'm here. I'm not dead. Unfortunately."

"Don't you ever say that again! You may think the world would be a better place without you, but I don't." He said, angrily.

"Yeah right."

"Oh come on Miley, don't start this again."

"Start what, exactly?" I asked, propping myself up with my good arm, while I raised an eyebrow at him. I really wanted to know what it was he thought I kept doing.

He took a deep breath, about to explain, but I interrupted him. I didn't want to know anymore.

"You're a liar."

"What?" He asked, shocked.

"You are. You act like you care about me. You don't."

He didn't say anything. That proves I'm right.

"You didn't miss much at school." He changed the subject.

"A lot of homework." I decided, tlaking more to myself than to him.

"Not really." He told me.

"We haven't had that much, we had a test in science, but none of the teachers give out much homework around christmas break."

"Christmas break?"

"Yes. Tommorrow's Christmas."

I sighed.

"So what _did _I miss."

"Well, Petrakis is going on a diet, Lilly and Ben are going out, the new lunch lady caught the cafeteria on fire...nothing much."

"Wait, what? wha...did you...she's? WHY? She didn't even like him!...no...no!...she can't!! Oliver how'd you let this happen?! She can't get anywhere near him! You have to break them up!!"

He got up and backed against the wall, obviously scared.

"You have to Oliver! She ca...he'll...No!! NO! NO!!" I screamed.

Oliver ran out of the room and a nurse came in with a needle while I was still screaming, louder than I ever had.

She stabbed me in the side with the euthanizer, and I got really tired. When I woke up, I was strapped to my bed. I was probably in the psych ward now. I looked up and saw my dad standing there.

"Daddy...what are they doing to me?"

"Miles, it'll be ok." He told me, not explaining anything.

"No it won't!" I yelled at him.

For some unknown reason, I was really angry. I'm not even sure who exactly I was angry _at. _I just, was. My emotions were going crazy, and I had a stomach ache. I didn't feel good. I wanted to go home. I had a headache. I needed a smoothie.

I tried to pull away from the bed.

"Daddy..." I whined

"Can you get it to stop? My head hurts...can you ask the doctor? Please?" He agreed to go talk to the doctor about uping my dosage of morphine.

I started crying and closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears from coming out.

It wasn't working. I started sobbing, while my head was throbbing.

They thought I was crazy. They all think I'm crazy.

I'm not. I'm not crazy.

"I'm not crazy!!" I screamed.

"I'm not crazy..." I started sobbing again

I'm not. I know I'm not.

Am I? No, I'm not.

I am most definately _not_ crazy.

"Lady, you don't understand. She'll want to see me. We're friends." I heard a loud voice coming from the hallway. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

The nurse said something, but I couldn't understand her.

"Yes, yes I am." The voice said again.

Why couldn't I remember whose voice it was?

"If I do, will you let me see her?" He asked.

"Listen lady, she is very important to me, and I am gonna go in there whether you like it or not."

The almost non-existant nurse said something again, and the voice said,

"What if I let you come to the premiere, free of charge...and I'll get you tickets to anything you want, just please, let me see her."

I had a feeling I knew who the voice belong to, but I didn't want to hope. I was probably wrong. The nurse must have finally agreed with him, because the next thing I heard was,

"Thank you! You do not know how much this means to me!"

I could hear the voice's footsteps as he came down the hall.

A shadow fell across the floor, and when I looked up, I could not believe whose shadow it was. I'd been right. It really was him. I think. Maybe I'm hallucinating. I hear Morphine can do that to you.

...

Jake." I managed to spit out.

**_I am so going to bed now. I didn't need to do much to this chapter, although it's still pretty short, but I'm still more tired than I was at the beginning._**


	9. Chapter 9

**holy cow...that was a humongous authors note I just deleted...it's gonna take a lot of adjectives and stuff to make this one normal length...well, I better get started.**

_Why is **he** here? _

_Why would he care? Wait...he was supposed to be in Japan, shooting that movie about...what did he say that movie was about? Maybe it's finished. It has been a year. What took him so long? Has he heard? Obviously not, he's here._

My thoughts shot around in my head like a ping pong ball in a fish tank. They had nowhere to go, and kept bouncing off of the sides.

_Why are you here?_

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"To see you, duh."

He smiled.

I didn't.

"I had quite the argument with that nurse, just to see you, so you better be happy I'm here."

I rolled my eyes and tried to conceal a smile as I looked away. Why was I smiling? This was not a happy situation. Smiling was not appropriate right now. But he was doing it...so why couldn't I?

_I can't believe they had to strap me into this thing before he came._

"Well, this is embarassing." I told him, wrinkling my nose, trying to get rid of an itch that had been bothering me for a while. The top strap on the bed was the loosest, so I had a little room to move my shoulders. It took a lot of stretching, but I eventually scratched my nose on my shoulder.

"What is?" He asked, suddenly paying attention.

"I'm strapped to my bed, Jake."

"Oh...I didn't notice." He lied.

_Ha. He's a bad liar. **I, **am a good liar. That's not a good thing, but it's true._

"Yes you did. It's the reason the nurse wouldn't let you in and you know it."

"Ok, I did notice. It doesn't matter though."

Yes it does.

It does matter. It _does _matter, Jake.

_Oh, why on earth is he here?_

_He's here to make fun of me. __I'm sure of it. __He heard the rumors and wanted to come just so he could make fun of me, just like everybody else. _

"Ok Jake, I'm just gonna come right out and ask...why are you here, and why are you being so nice to me?"

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be nice to you?"

I was right. The first time, at least. He hadn't heard.

"You haven't heard the rumors, have you?"

_Well, duh, Miley. _

"What rumors?" He replied, looking genuinely confused.

That annoying little voice in my head started laughing.

Stop it.

_No._

Yes

_No._

YES!!

_Fine_

"Oh, nothing...just, whatever you hear, please don't believe it. It's not true."

_Not that it will help to warn him. __He'll see those pictures, and he'll be just like Oliver. __He won't believe me a__nd he'll be bad at hiding it, too, no matter how good of an actor he is._

"What might I hear?" He asked, sitting down on a chair across from my bed.

I shouldn't have said anything

_You got that right, he'll be bugging you for a while._

Shut up.

_You won't be able to convince him._

"Nevermind."

"No, I wanna know. I won't believe it, I promise. What are the rumors?"

_Ha ha. Told you._

Seriously, shut up before I pull my brains out just to get rid of you!

"Nothing!!" I yelled.

"Just, nothing."

He looked shocked by my sudden outburst.

"Sorry." I apologized.

"It's ok." He said, looking down at the floor, and then back up at me.

Ha. In your face stupid voice in my head.

"So, umm, how'd that movie go?"

"Well, we thought the first one went pretty well, so we filmed the sequel too, that's why I was gone so long. I didn't really want to, but they didn't want me to get any older."

"Oh..."

"Did I miss anything here?"

_YES!! __A lot! __You missed everything!_

"Anything exciting, I mean" He added

I didn't want to lie to him.

But I knew I had to. I didn't need him pitying me, just like everybody else will, when they find out.

"N-No..."

"Besides this."

"Yeah." I agreed

"Oliver explained what happened...or at least what the police know."

That means he doesn't know the truth.

"Really." I replied.

Why cant I say more than one word at a time?

_Don't ask me._

I didn't.

_Yes you did._

Did not!!

_Did too._

Shut up!

"Yeah...so you don't know who shot you?"

Yes. Yes I do. Of course I do.

Why wouldn't I? What story did they tell him?

"No..."

"That asshole desreves to go to prison." Jake growled.

He deserves more than that. Way more than that. He deserves to go through what I went throught. Although I'm not so sure rape would hurt a guy as much as a girl.

I wish I had laser vision. Then I could zap his head off the next time he comes near me. Which, he will.

He just wants to rub his accomplishment in my face. He wants to rub his _crime_ in my face. He wants to rub his _sin_ in my face. At least he can't do anything to me while I'm in the hospital.

Maybe.

I looked back up at Jake.

"Jake. Why aren't you with your family? It's Christmas." I asked him. The expression on his face instantly changed.

"What family?" He replied. I could tell he wanted to cry. His eyes were shiny. He wouldn't do it though. Jake was too _macho _to cry.

"Oh...I'm sorry, I just..."

_Good going Miley, now you made him cry._

He's not crying.

_He wants to._

Just shut up already!

"Oh it's ok. I have my dad, it's just...he's not really a dad, ya know. He cares more about my career than me. He's not really family...I have no family"

"I know how you feel." I wanted to tell him.

"What...what about your-"

"Car accident." he interrupted, reading my mind.

I wish he could really read my mind. If he could I know what I'd say.

_My step-brother raped me, Jake. __He's the one who shot me. __I lied, I do know. __And now he's going out with my best friend. __Please help me._

Maybe I should just yell it. Tell somebody.

Maybe even that grumpy overweight nurse that stabbed me in the stomach with that giant needle yesterday.

He looked up at me and for a second, I almost thought he knew what I was thinking.

"Mine too." I announced.

"It's terrible." he said.

"I know. I miss her." I told him.

"Me too."

"Right now...I don't really have family. I mean, my brother' almost dead...my dad is so depressed I can't stand to be around him...and my step mom...well..." I said.

He looked up at me and smiled.

Strange time to smile.

_I know._

What did I tell you?!

_I know, I know...shut up._

"I can be your family." He said.

He's being so nice. He sure wasn't lying when he said he isn't a bad person.

_I would really like that. __Alot. __I really **need **that. __And so do you._

"And I can be yours."

He smiled at me and was about to say something when he was interrupted by my dad.

"Well hello...do the doctors know you're in here?"

"Umm, yeah." Jake said, looking up at the man in the doorway.

"I can't believe their lettin' people in here. I'll have to talk to them about that."

"No, daddy, it's fine. I wanted to see him." I told him. He looked like he was going to disagree, but he told me the doctor was coming instead.

"Thanks." I said. Dad nodded and sat down in the chair next to Jake. Jake looked uncomfortable. Truly uncomfortable.

Maybe that was a good sign. Isn't a guy normally nervous around the girl he likes' dad? Maybe he won't desert me. Maybe he won't believe them.

Dad cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. Jake shifted in his chair. I imagine those things are pretty uncomfortable. Aren't people in hopitals suposed to be comfortable? At least the patients should. Maybe this is just a bad hospital

Jake stood up and turned to look at me.

"I guess I better go." I nodded, although I was disappointed. I didn't want him to go.

He was almost out the door when I stopped him.

_At least say goodbye!_

I will, give me a chance, stupid voice.

"Jake."

He turned around.

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas." He smiled at me, and he looked happy. Again.

"Merry Christmas." He replied.

**_ok, i'm giving up on this for a little while...I need to work on other stuff..._**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Grr, this one is short too...I cannot believe I actually posted something with less than 1000 words...I apologize, I can't exactly make these long...but I'm trying..._**

* * *

They're just standing there in the doorway, with those stupid smiles on their faces.

Like everything is fine.

They haven't even introduced themselves yet. The man writes in his notebook and the woman nods. They've been repeating this cycle for ten whole minutes. I'm dying to say something to them, but I can't. My lips are dry, and my thraot hurts. I can't move.

Finally, the man says something. Leave it to the man to be the one that talks. My sixth grade health teacher said that men like that are why the part of the mouth that moves is called the _man_dable.

Men never stop talking.

Women think, men don't.

That's why this happened, and why it is still happening, to me. Stupid, unthinking, talking men. One is particular, but I don't want to think his name. It hurts too much.

"Miss Stewart, I'm Detective Law, and..." Detective Law, a large, average height bald man, with a gigantic mustache, and coffee stains down his shirt, pointed at the woman next to him.

Detective Law, how original.

The woman should be Detective Order.

Hello. We're detectives Law & Order. No they didn't name the show after us. We're stupid cops whose only joy in life is to annoy the heck out of people who dont need, and won't to talk to, us, and nobody makes tv shows about people like that.

"This is Detective LaShelle." The woman, much taller, and more slender than the man, with frizzy chestnut colored hair and no makeup, waved at me. I'm still not saying anything.

I don't acknowledge them. I don't nod. I don't say anything.

I know why they're here.

They're here to do those disgusting tests, to stick metal things where metal things should not be stuck, to take my blood, and to ask questions.

All that kind of cop stuff that will get them nowhere if I don't talk. I can't talk, I won't talk, and I don't need to talk..

I don't know why they didn't come earlier, back when the evidence was still there. These tests are pointless.

Like I said, this hospital stinks, and so does the law enforcement.

_All the evidence is gone._

No it isn't. It can't be.

_It is._

It is _not! _They'll still catch him!

_They are not gonna catch him! Face it Miley, he's gonna get away with it. Unless you say something._

I can't talk. I can't say anything. He'll kill me.

_Not if he's in jail._

Then he'll send someone else! Just shut up. Leave me alone!

_He's gonna get away with it._

"We're going to do a couple tests." LaShelle said. Really? I thought you were gonna use that needle to get high. _I _thought you were gonna use that scary metal contraption to slit your throat. Too bad that's not the case.

"And we'll ask some questions." Detective Law finished Detective LaShelle's sentence .

I sighed in response. I couldn't refuse, I didn't have the energy to.

Detective LaShelle put on some gloves, completing the institution feel of this place with a final snap of the rubber, and Detective Law took out a notebook.

"So, can you tell us who did this to you?" He asked.

_Tell him!_

No!

_You have to!_

No I don't! Shut up!

_Fine. Be that way._

I shook my head.

The detective sighed.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Detective Law asked, moving on to the next question.

I looked at him weird and the woman noticed. She obviously mistook my expression of fury, mixed together with embarassment, as one of worry.

"Honey, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for everybody. You didn't deserve this. But if you don't answer our questions, this won't get any better."

Either way, it's as bad as it can be. No matter if I say anything or not, he still did it, and there's a part of me, both physical and mental, that I will never get back.

"So can you please tell us what happened?"

"I...Well don't you already know?" I asked, wondering why I had to tell them when it would be easier for them to just take some pictures, push a couple buttons on a computer, and figure it out themselves.

_Would they be asking if they knew everything._

Maybe they would.

_They don't._

They know all I can tell them.

_Oh, Miley don't be like this._

Like what?

_Can't you think of people besides yourself? What if this happens again? To someone else. What if this happens to Lilly?_

Don't bring her into this.

_Why not? She's part of it._

Just stop talking about her!

"Miley? Honey? Did you hear that?" Detective LaShelle asked.

I shook my head yes, even though I didn't.

"Good." She smiled.

"Ok, this is gonna be cold." I closed my eyes and waited, as she pushed my legs up, so that my knees were bent, and spread them apart. She stuck the cold metal thing in me and I grabbed the side of the bed.

"Are you ok? This isn't supposed to hurt very bad." Detective Law asked me, not bothering to do anything to make me more comfortable.

"Sorry...it's kind of reflex."

He looked at me funny and looked back down at his notebook.

The lady detective took her cold metal thing and put it all away.

"Ok." She said, with a highly innappropriate smile on her face. Don't smile. DON'T smile.

"We'll be back later when you feel like talking." Detective Law told me, like he expected that day to come.

That'll be never.

_You have to do it sooner or later._

No I don't.

_Whatever._

I pretended like I was asleep, for the rest of the day. I'd learned to do that while I'd been in the hospital. When people thought you were asleep, they left you alone. No more questions.

I learned the most while I was feigning sleep.

My dad came in to see me, but he didn't know I was really awake, so he just sat there, continuously sighing, sounding depressed.

It had probably been about four hours since the detectives had been here, when I heard Detective Law's voice again. At first I thought I had actually fallen asleep, and that this was just a dream. I realized it wasn't when I spread my legs apart a tiny bit, and felt a new wave of pain pulse through my body.

"Mr. Stewart?" The Detective asked my dad, like he didn't already know who he was. I knew for a fact they'd been talking out in the hallway for at least an hour before the detectives had questioned me.

"Yes?" Daddy answered, sounding weary and anxious.

"We did some tests, and..."

"And...what? Spit it out!" Daddy urged him, getting impatient.

What's wrong? Burglar got your tongue?

_That makes no sense._

Yes it does.

_No it doesn't._

Burglars steal things, and if a burglar stole his tongue, then he couldn't talk.

_I know what burglars do._

Then why'd you ask?

_Ugh...nevermind._

Yeah, you shouldn't have said anything.

_I know that, but now you need to shut up._

I can't. These are my thoughts. They don't make any noise. So i can't shut up my thoughts.

_Then quit thinking._

No.

_Whatever._

"We discovered that..."

"Discovered_ what?"_

Yeah, discovered what? Tell me. Prove to us all just how wrong you are.

"Mr. Stewart...Not only has she been shot...your daughter's been raped. Multiple times."

"She's been what?" Daddy asked, obviously surprised.

"Mr Stewart. Miley has been raped." He repeated.

"What?" Came another voice.

I opened an eye and screamed inside.

Not only does my dad know what he did to me.

But so does Jake.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Ugh...I'm gonna quit complaining and just get this finished, okay?_**

* * *

Of course. I had to say it.

I just had to say the one thing that a person could say in a situation like this, that would take all of the shocked people in the room's attention off the horrible, although accurate, news they just heard, and turn it to the fact that I just made myself look like a complete idiot.

"I was what?"

Oh yeah, good going Miley. Not only do the doctor's think you're crazy. Now, Your overprotective, nosey, annoying dad, an obese detective that would rather be working in a donut shop that investigating a rape case, and a guy that slays fake zombies for a stupid tv show, think you're a stupid psychotic weirdo. Good, freaking, going.

They're all just staring at me, probably wondering if they accidentally removed my brain instead of that bullet.

"I mean...good morning!" I tried to fake a smile, but it seemed like I was trying to fake a fake smile, so I stopped. It hurt too much to move my face anyway.

"Why didn't you- How could you keep that a- why didn't you- WHAT?" Jake asked. At least, he tried to ask. He was so surprised he could barely get a word out, let alone a whole sentence.

Dad was just standing there, with a look on his face that I imagine he would wear if he ever was unfortunate enough to see Aunt Pearl in a bikini.

Boy am I stupid. You can't pretend like you didn't know you were raped, unless you're dead. But then you would probably be dead because you were raped, and you would know that. Or, you would in the few seconds before you died. I hate it when I confuse myself.

_Then stop thinking, stupid._

Hey, only I can call me stupid.

_I am you, so ha! Stupid._

Shut up. You are _not, _will never _be, _and never _was, _me.

_No._

Yes.

The detective made his way to the center of the room and stood at the end of my bed. He looked at my dad and Jake, and with his freaky telepathic alien mind waves, he told them to leave. And they did so. I wish they hadn't, now I was alone with him. I didn't have a clue what to say.

"Miss Stewart, why didn't you mention this before?" He asked me. They had to have suspected it, why else would they have stuck that uncomfortable contraption up my private area.

It wasn't important then? Is that a good enough explanation?

_I told, you! I told you you should tell them! But did you listen? Nooo. You knew they'd find out eventually._

"Shut up."

"Excuse me? The detective asked, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to...never mind."

He sat down in a chair next to the bed and, trying, but failing, to look sympathetic, he asked me,

"Can you tell me who did it?"

Yes I can. No, I won't.

_OH COME ON ALREADY! Just say it already, get it out._

I can't...I'm too scared.

_Don't be scared. If they catch him, he'll be in jail. You can make sure he never gets any visitors. He'll never find you. He wont send someone after you. Nothing will happen._

Shouldn't you be worried too? If I die, then you're gone.

_...It doesn't matter. Just as long as the world knows what he did._

They will. When I'm 90, delirious, and on my deathbed.

"I...It was-"

I can't do it.

_Yes you can! Come on, take a breath, in, out, in, out. Now open your mouth..._

"I don't know."

_Not what I was thinking..._

You can't think! YOU are a THOUGHT!!

_But I-_

Quit thinking for me! I can do it myself.

"I know you're lying." Detective Law said.

"Then you know wrong, because I don't know who it was." I lied, trying my best to sound sure of myself. Why wasn't I an actor? I know for a fact I convinced him.

_Thinking for yourself is what got you into this._

It is not.

"Miley, this is not going to get any easier unless you participate."

"Maybe I don't want it to get easier. Maybe I want to be punished." I told him, my voice staying steady, not giving away the earthquake that was going on inside me.

"Why would you wan't to be punished?" He asked me, like he cared.

"I lied. To myself."

Ok, I'll admit it. It wasn't HIS fault I was drunk at that party. It was his fault my drink was spiked, but everything that happened would have anyways. I was drunk, and it was all my fault. I wanted to blame somebody for my mistakes, and HE seemed like the best person for the job. I know exactly what happened to me, and because it's my fault, I am going to punish myself. I don't want this to happen to other people, but If I tell, people will blame him, and forget all about what I did. I don't want to be let off free. I need to be punished. I NEED to. It is all my fault.

_This isn't your fault. You've already been punished enough. For Christ's sake, you've got a voice in your head, he's done enough to you. You haven't been let off the hook. It's **not** your fault._

Yes it is!! Can't you see that? Don't you know that? You fight with me when I say it was him, and you fight with me when I say it was me! Who's fault is it?

_Fate._

How is this fate? Fate is supposed to be a good thing!

_Sometimes it isn't. Romeo and Juliet? It was fate that killed them. they weren't supposed to end up together, just like you weren't supposed to leave that party without experiencing what you did._

If I hadn't gone to that party, it wouldn't have happened to me. If I didn't know him, he wouldn't have hurt me.

_ If this hadn't happen to you, it would've happened to someone else._

Like that is any better! Either way, somebody gets hurt, and it's not him, like it should be. It's **not **better.

_It is. Somebody else might not take it as well as you have._

I cannot believe I'm arguing with my thoughts. Those doctors are right. I am crazy.

_Maybe, but you know I'm right._

"How did you lie to yourself?" The nosy fat man in front of me asked, like I hadn't just gotten into a quarrel with a voice in my head.

Let me see, how did I lie to myself?

I knew he wouldn't let me go. Dad never let me go to anything. He was so overprotective, he wouldn't let me go down the driveway without first checking to see if there was anything I could trip on. I was his little girl, and he didn't want anything to happen to me. I realize now that he was only trying to protect me.

But it's too late.

I snuck out, I went to that party with everybody else. I was upset, and I needed something to take my mind off the breakup.

It was one of the biggest in history. Hannah Montana and Jake Ryan. People were so sure we'd stay together that they didn't even make up a stupid little nickname, like Brangelina, or TomKat, or Jacksannah. It was Hannah and Jake. Jake and Hannah. There's nothing holding Tom and Katie together, or Brad and Angie. Just space between the letters. There's an "and" holding Jake and Hannah together. You can't break that. It held us together like superglue. We were stuck like my Uncle Earl in that waterslide at Wacky Waters.

I don't know why it happened. I was different then. His ego got to me. I couldn't stand him. There was too much Jake for me. Not now. Now that I have my other self, there's enough of me to balance out Jake. Too bad I'm crazy now.

I couldn't break up with him. I didn't want to. I loved him, but I knew I had to do it. I was afraid of breaking his heart. I was so sure it would, that I didn't even wonder. I was so sure he loved me too, that I didn't even want to imagine what I would do if he didn't. He got tired of my sulking, and told me that he hated how sad I always was. He ended it for me. If he thought I was sad then, I wonder what he thinks now. He must really hate me.

I didn't break the "and."

He took it with him. That and was a part of me.

I guess I loved him more than I thought. I was so depressed that day that it took Lilly three hours to get me to give her one of my signature strange looks. She'd been purposely doing stupid things that, any other day, I would've made fun of her for, for hours. She got me to go to that party though. That was her fault.

The senior that sits in front of me in World History? It was his fault I took that beer.

It was Jake's fault that I drank it. I can blame Jake for everything, and there would be somebody that agrees with me.

Everybody is at fault. The people that make beer. It's their fault so many people were drinking. Eagle River Liqour. It's their fault. They sold the beer. Mr. and Mrs. Petrowski. If they hadn't gone to that funeral in Kentucky, Dave's party wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.

I can blame anybody I want, But I know it isn't their fault.

It's mine. I took that beer, and I chose to drink it. It's all my fault and nobody can tell me otherwise.

I snapped out of my day-mare, and looked at the detective. I couldn't even remember what he had asked.

The look on his face made me want to cry. When a drop of water slid down my neck I realized I was.

My sobbing started making it hard to breath, and Detective Law reached out to comfort me. It didn't work, he was such an uncomforting person.

I started crying even more, and somehow, I started screaming. I don't know why. I didn't _want_ to.

A nurse ran in and tried to comfort me, followed by my dad and Jake. I don't why Jake was still at the hospital. If I were him I wouldn't still be here. I wouldn't have come at all.

"Good going Detective! Look what you did! I think it would be best if you left." Daddy said, while I was screaming and thrashing around, trying to get the rest of the straps loose, for no apparent reason, other than that I wanted to get out of the bed, and jump off the roof.

If I wasn't strapped to this bed, I would be out of here.

Dad turned to Jake,

"I think you need to go too."

"No, let me have a minute." He refused, while the nurse pushed me down on the bed, having to fight me with more difficulty that usual, and buckled the top strap they had loosened earlier.

She pulled it tighter, and Jake stepped forward.

He reached out like he was inspector Gadget, and could extend his hand all the way over to me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me. He could touch my forehead, my chin, my foot, I really didn't care what. I just wanted to feel his skin, and how warm it was.

He took another step and his hand fell to the bed. Jake's fingers ran up the side of the bed while I was still trying to get loose, although I still couldn't figure out why.

His fingers brushed against my hand and I stopped screaming, that second. Jake grabbed my hand, but I couldn't feel it because the straps were too tight, and they were cutting off my circulation. His other hand touched my shoulder, and I stopped crying. His left hand moved to my cheek, and I did something I didn't think I would do for a long time.

I smiled. A real, genuine, smile.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Dah dee dah...don't know why I typed that...i just did, okay? Anyway...on with the story! Charge!_**

She's sitting in that chair like she knows everything.

Is that smirk on her face supposed to be reassuring? Because it's not.

She's sitting in that chair like she knows what I'm thinking.

I know she's not. If she did, she would be mad. She would wish she _didn't _know why I was thinking.

She's sitting in that chair like she's making me feel better.

But she's not. Not one reassuring thing has come from that tiny mouth of hers.

She's sitting in that chair like she's thinking of a way to help me.

But she's not. There is _no_ way to help me.

She's sitting in that chair like she's not wasting her time.

But she is. She needs to leave.

Unless this woman has a time machine and can erase all of this, she cannot help me one bit.

Maybe she does have a time machine.

She sure looks like a scientist. Dr. Cultman has a big ugly white coat on, and her skirt is pulled up _way _too high. It's like she's using it as a bra.

There's a ketchup stain on her white button-up blouse, and she's trying to hide it with a big ugly broach that clashes with her green and brown plaid skirt, straight out of the 80s.

She must be from a different time if she thinks those shoes are still in style.

And her hair...you could hide my fat Uncle Earl under that frizzy stuff.

"Can you tell me about yourself?" She asks with an annoying nasally whine.

Can you tell me about yourself? That's the oldest one in the book. As a therapist, you're not supposed to use that one. Ha. Can you tell me about yourself?

I think not.

No way would I tell this strange woman I barely know, one thing about myself. She wouldn't understand.

I haven't said a word the last twelve times she's been here, what makes her think I will now?

"Oh come on deary, can't you say _something?"_

Oh come on deary, can't you say something? I can, but once again, I won't.

_Come on Miley, speak up._

Not you _again_.

_Yes, it's me again, and I won't go away until you say something._

Well then, you better start decorating, because you're gonna be there forever.

_I won't stop bugging you. You have to speak up. Speak, Miley, speak!_

I'm not a dog, I don't sit on command, I don't roll over, or shake, I don't do what you say, and I never will, so leave me alone and quit treating me like an animal!

She's sitting in that chair like she's gonna get something out of me.

But she's not.

I won't say anything. Never. Not ever.

She's sitting in that chair like she's not gonna leave.

But she will. She always does, every time.

"There's no use. You should just leave like you always do." I tell her, finally saying something.

"Oh that's a g_reat _start!"

_Oh that's a **great **start!_

_Come on lady, it's a horrible start. __It's not even a start. __It's not an end. __It's not a middle. __It's nothing. __And you know it._

I remain silent, and just like I predicted, she leaves.

She always does. It's a good thing though. I don't want her here. I want my privacy, and I _will _get it_._

So much for that, here comes the doctor.

Maybe they'll take me to a brain surgeon and just pry my secret from my brain.

He doesn't say a word. He just takes off all these straps, grabs my sore arm, unwraps the bandage, and cleans my shoulder wound.

"Looks like the infection's gone. You get to go home today." He doesn't sound very enthused.

Not that he would be. He doesn't get to go home.

"Not without my brother." I tell him.

He looks at me strangely, and licks his lips. His mouth just hangs open for a minute, before he says anything.

"Did nobody tell you? He woke up this morning."

I sit up so fast that I get a headache. I put my hand on the back of my head, and say,

"WHAT? Why did nobody tell me? Can I go see him?" I start to get off the bed, but he stops me.

"Whoa, slow down there Speedy Gonzales, we have to finish here first."

He finishes cleaning my shoulder and says,

"That's about the most I've heard you say the entire time you've been here."

I just nod my head as if to say,

_Well, yeah, I think any normal human being would be excited if somebody they loved woke up from a coma._

"You and your brother...you're pretty close?"

"Really close." I answer. It wasn't one hundred percent true, but it would be, once I got a chance to talk to Jackson.

"I wish it was like that for me."

"It can be. You just have to try." I tell him, sounding just like the crazy therapist I hate so much.

He smiles at me and tosses the bandage into the garbage can. He puts a bandaid with smiley faces on it over my almost completely healed wound, and smiles at me.

"Smiley? Miley? Get it?"

I let out a little laugh and look at him, waiting. He grabs my arm and helps me out of the bed. I never realized it would be this hard to stand.

_Well duh, you **were **in a hospital bed for over a month._

So what! Who cares! Shut up!

_Real mature Miley._

You're the immature one...uhh...

_Miley...?_

That's my name, not yours.

_I am you, so it's my name too._

It is not! Only crazy people talk to themselves!

_And you're a crazy person, see how that works out?_

Shut up! Seriously!! I am so close to pulling my brains out, you do not even know.

The only halfway nice doctor I'd dealt with so far helped me to the door, but I stopped.

"I want to do it myself."

He looks unsure, but says,

"Ok...He's in room 419. Just yell if you need help."

I nod and he leaves the room, to go be nice, and put smiley face bandages on other people's wounds like the good person he is.

Before I could do it, I took a breath. In...out...ok, lets go.

I moved my stiff legs and slowly, while using the wall as support, and I got to the hallway his room was in.

I could see the sign next to the door.

419

This is it.

He's in there. They're _all_ in there.

I can't do it. I can barely even stand anymore. My knees are going weak. I'm about to collapse.

Something grabs my arm and chills shoot up my spine, spreading throughout all of my extremities.

This tingling feeling told me exactly who was holding my arm.

"Now where on earth are you going?" He asked with a smile I knew he was forcing. There was no way he could smile at a person like me.

"419."

"Okay." He said simply, before helping me down the hallway, like that was what he'd been planning all along.

I pushed his hand away and took another step. But I stopped again.

He reached for my hand, and said,

"You can do this. I know you can."

"I can't Jake. _I know_ I can't."

"Miley...you may not believe in yourself, but I sure as hell do, and whether you can or not, you are going in there."

He does not even realize how much I wanna kiss the life out of him right now. It may seem strange, at this particular moment, but the only thing keeping me off of him was the stiffness and pain I was feeling. I have never had this feeling, on the inside, before.

"I have to do it...I'm scared, Jake."

I reached out for his arm and squeezed it.

He took my hand off of his arm and held it in his own. He smiled at me, and squeezed it.

"Don't be. There's nothing scary about it. It'll be just like before. He's in there and he wants to see you."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, squeezing his hand back.

"I just am. If you're scared, just close your eyes."

"Ok..." I took a deep breath and let it out before closing my eyes.

Jake grabbed a hold of my shoulders and steered me down the hallway.

He stopped and I could hear a voice.

"Miley?"

I opened my eyes and the anxiety went away.

"Jackson."

The first thing I saw was not Jackson though.

It was Lilly.

She's sitting in the corner holding Ben's hand.

She's sitting in that chair like she doesn't care.

But she does. I know she does.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**_I don't actually know what to say anymore...but these chapters feel empty if I _don't _say anything..._**

I found myself lying awake in my own bed, at home, wondering what the hell happened.

Do I just have the memory of a goldfish, or did something happen to me back at the hospital?

_Don't ask me._

It was a rhetorical question. I didn't.

_If you weren't asking me, who were you asking?_

Elvis!

_Elvis? What the heck?_

Nevermind, I forgot it's weird to talk to dead people.

_It sure is._

Just stop so I can figure out why I'm here, ok?

I sat up in bed and suddenly felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach.

"Wonderful..." I said to nobody in particular.

My room was getting really hot, so I threw the covers down to the end of the bed and got up.

I was stiff at first, but after a minute or two, I was able to walk, with little pain.

There was a pair of jeans sitting on the chair, and a jacket on the floor. I put them on.

I did some laps around the second floor of my house before I even thought about trying to make it down the stairs.

When I did, Linda was sitting on the couch.

"Oh, good, you're up. I was beginning to wonder." She said with a fake smile.

I returned the favor.

"Are you hungry?"

I shook my head and went into the kitchen. I took a water bottle out of the fridge and stuck it in the microwave. I took it out two minutes later, and went back into the living room. The couch was free, now that Linda was in the bathroom, so I laid down on it, and put the hot water bottle on my stomach.

Linda came back in the room and gave me a look of pity.

I don't need pity. I don't even care anymore, and pity is not gonna change that.

"Upset stomach?"

I just nodded and close my eyes.

"I'm going to the hospital to see Jackson, do you wanna come?"

I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to talk to him. I shook my head no.

"...okay."

She reached for her coat, and was out the door in approximately three minutes.

I kept my eyes closed until the pain in my stomach went away, and when it did, I finally sat up.

When I opened my eyes, I could make out the shadow of somebody standing in the doorway. My eyes adjusted, and I desperately wanted to let out a scream. He was holding a beer in one hand, and the other was in his front pocket.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey? _Hey? _After all you've done to me, all you can say is _hey?"_

He nodded and took a drink.

I got up and snatch it from his hands.

"Hey!" He complained, smiling at me. He stuck his hand out and started playing with a loose strand of my hair.

"I am a human being! Even with everything you've taken from me, I am still human! I have knees!" I had meant to say needs, but once again, what I meant to say wasn't the same as what I actually said.

"Did you just say you have knees?" He asked, sticking his hand out against the wall to support himself.

"Yes, do you wanna see them?" He said nothing, so I set the beer down while I unbuttoned my jeans. I was so angry I didn't even know what exactly it was that I was doing.

"Yep, there they are, knees. I also have a belly button, you wanna see that?" I ask, unzipping my jacket.

"I am a human!! I am alive whether you like it or not! I have lungs, a heart, a brain, ribs, everything!" I scream as I continue stripping in front of him. I really couldn't explain why I was doing it. I didn't _want _to.

"See? SEE!!"

I could see a smile appearing on his perverted face, so I told him,

"Just do it. Do whatever you want with me, just as long as you don't hurt Lilly. I don't even care about myself anymore."

He just continued standing there.

"I know you want it. Just...promise me..."

I took a big drink from his beer, to numb my brain, so that it wouldn't seem so bad when he actually did it.

"...That you won't hurt her."

He smiled his evil grin and reached out for me. He puts his hand on my cheek and said,

"I can't do that. I'm in love with _you, _and I can't help that. She'll get hurt...just not...in the physical sense...by the way, I am sorry about that." He ran his finger along my shoulder, over the fresh tissue growing over the bullet hole HE put there.

"Please! Ben please! Just take me. Use me all you want. Please just leave her alone...I know you want this, and you aren't very good at hiding it."

"Hey Miley-what the hell...what are you doing?" A voice came from the back door.

I turned around, not even caring that I was completely naked. It was just Jake anyways. Had he been able to stand my depression, he probably would've seen it all by now anyways.

"Just leave me alone Jake, let him finish what he's done!"

Ben laughed and says,

"I have no clue what you're talking about...you've had a little too much of this." He took the beer out of my hand and sauntered down the hallway, like nothing was going to happen now.

"Why don't you get some clothes on and come with me..." Jake offered, holding his hand out to me. I didn't take it.

I crossed my arms in defiance and said,

"I'm not going to the police. I'm not going with you Jake."

"Why not?"

"Becase I can't. Jake, I am a coward! There is not a pinch of bravery in me! I can't do it. Just, please, leave."

"No, I won't leave you alone with him." He refused, scrunching his eyes together.

"Please Jake, just leave. I can't do this with you here! I really want you to leave. Just...get out of my life!" I yelled at him.

"...okay." He gave in, after ten whole seconds of obvious internal arguments.

Jake turned around, and left through the door he came in through, disappearing into the pink sky.

The sun was setting, and I did not want to be home come nightfall, so I went back into my room, put on a tee shirt and some shorts, grabbed my guitar, and went down to the beach.

The nearest rock became my chair, and the waves became my audience.

I plucked a few strings and started playing a song that had been playing in my mind. I started humming along, but stopped when I heard a bird calling. I looked up and stared into the night sky for a good twenty minutes.

The beach was silent except for ths sound of the waves hitting the shore, and the distant sound of cars on the highway far behind me. I broke the silence with my sobbing and watched my newly replenished tears hit the rock I was sitting on.

I started playing my guitar again, trying to keep my mind off what was going on, and started humming again, where I left off at.

I could hear footsteps in the sand, and soon, Jake joined me on the rock.

I kept playing the guitar, and looked up at him. I had gotten so good at that particular instrument, that I could play it with my eyes closed, with my feet, or even asleep.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

I shrugged my shoulders, continuing to play the song I'd been playing, before he asked,

"Do you wanna talk?"

Without pausing, I started playing a different song.

He looked at me, with pleading eyes, silently begging me to say something.

I didn't say anything. Instead, corny as it sounds, I sang.

"I looked away, Then I look back at you. You try to say, The things that you can't undo. If I had my way, I'd never get over you. Today's the day, I pray that we make it through."

I look up at him, and he looked utterly confused. It appeared he hadn't heard the song before.

"Make it through the fall. Make it through it all"

I looked up at him again and could tell he finally recognized what I was playing.

"And I don't wanna fall to pieces, I just want to sit and stare at you, I don't want to talk about it, And I don't want a conversation, I just want to cry in front of you, I don't want to talk about it. 'Cause I'm in Love With you."

He smiled at me, resting his hand on my shoulder._ I_ knew it was just a song, and _he_ knew it was just a song, but we both knew it _was _true, had _been_ true, had never _stopped_ being true, and would continue to_ be_ true.

"You're the only one, I'd be with till the end. When I come undone, you bring me back again. Back under the stars, back into your arms."

I start playing even louder and he crossed his legs, so that he was sitting Indian style.

"And I don't wanna fall to pieces, I just want to sit and stare at you, I don't want to talk about it, And I don't want a conversation, I just want to cry in front of you, I don't want to talk about it. 'Cause I'm in Love With you...

Wanna know who you are, wanna know where to start, I wanna know what this means! Wanna know how you feel, wanna know what is real, I wanna know everything, everything!

And I don't wanna fall to pieces, I just want to sit and stare at you, I don't want to talk about it, And I don't want a conversation, I just want to cry in front of you, I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't even look up to see his expression this time.

"And I don't wanna fall to pieces, I just want to sit and stare at you, I don't want to talk about it, And I don't want a conversation, I just want to cry in front of you, I don't want to talk about it. 'Cause I'm in Love With you."

I started playing a little softer and cleared my throat.

"I'm in love with you, 'cause I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you."

I stopped playing and looked up at him.

"That was beautiful." He said, looking at a loss for anything better to say.

I put the guitar down, and said, quietly,

"Thank you."

He put his hand on my shoulder and I couldn't stop myself. I burst into tears and he just held me.

"It's ok...shhh...shhh...you're gonna be fine." He assured me, like it was a fact.

After a while, I stopped crying, and said,

"There's no use telling anybody. Jackson's gonna do it. He probably already has."

"Why is that a bad thing?" He asked, sympathetically.

"I'm not afraid for myself. I know I'm gonna die eventually...I'm scared for Lilly...and all the other victims he'll have if I tell...I'm a coward Jake, I can't do anything without being scared."

"Any sane person would be scared, Miley.. This shouldn't have happened to you. This shouldn't happen to anybody."

He twirled my hair between his fingers, just like he always used to, and said,

"I'm gonna show you something I've never shown anybody before."

I turned in his lap and asked, with my mind completely off of what had happened not an hour earlier, which was probably his exact motive,

"What?"

He reached for my guitar, and I slid out of his lap. He looked at me, and starts playing the exact same song I had been playing before he came. He was actually pretty good.

"Let it go, Let it roll right off your shoulder. Don't you know? The hardest part is over. Let it in, let your clarity define you. In the end, We will only just remember how it feels"

I smiled at him and let a tear roll freely down my cheek. A tear that had nothing to do with the ordeal I'd been going through.

"Our lives are made, in these small hours. These little wonders, these twists & turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain."

I pulled on a strand of my hair, and tucked it behind my ear, still watching him intently, listening.

"Let it slide, let your troubles fall behind you. Let it shine, until you feel it all around you, And I don't mind, If it's me you need to turn to. We'll get by, It's the heart that really matters in the end"

I couldn't believe how good he sounded, and it showed in my facial expression.

"Our lives are made, in these small hours. These little wonders, these twists & turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain.

All of my regret, will wash away some how. But I can not forget, the way I feel right now.

In these small hours. These little wonders. These twists & turns of fate, these twists & turns of fate. Time falls away but these small hours, these small hours, still remain, still remain. These little wonders. These twists & turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours. These little wonders still remain.

He put the guitar down and stared at me. I rested my hand on the rock underneath me, and used it to help me do something I had not done in a long time. Something I'd wanted to do ever since he'd started playing the guitar.

I kissed him.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

I cannot believe I stayed out here all night. I cannot believe _he _stayed out here all night.

I can feel his arms around me, and the softness of his muscular chest behind my head. I can vaguely see the sun rising, and I realize, this may be the last sunrise I ever see. This may be my last day on this earth.

This horrible, depressing thought has crossed my mind many times before now, but at this moment, on the beach, with the on person I can be honest with, the one person I can talk to without being judged...Here on the beach with Jake, I discover something.

I don't want to die.

Maybe Jackson hasn't told them yet. If he had, the police would be looking for me, right? He couldn't have told them. If he had, there would _definitely _be people looking for me. People that wanted to scream and yell at me for not saying anything. People that just _didn't _understand. It's not like I'm hiding in a cave underground or something. If they wanted to find me, they could.

My urge to tell somebody starts waning, so I quickly sit up, waking Jake and not caring, because I needed to get there before I changed my mind.

_Somebody_ should be looking for me. Like my dad. I mean, I've been gone all night, why isn't anyone missing me?

"Jake." I whisper.

His eyes meet mine and I continue.

"I'm gonna tell somebody."

"Really? That's great!" He' s so enthusiatic. It sickens me.

I just stare at him, pulling out more words with my eyes.

"I mean, I'm sure this is gonna get better. He'll be in jail, you'll feel safer...everything will be back to normal."

Normal...I wish it could be normal. _I, _will never be normal. Not me. No way Jose. Not me. Not normal.

"Well, as normal as it can get." He quickly corrected, realizing what I was thinking.

I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, and supported my leaning body with my hands. Jake stood up and put out his hand to help me, but I didn't take it. I needed to do all of this myself. It had to be my decision

He stared at me, silently begging me to take his hand. I reached for his lovely hand, calling me out to it, just like the rest of him, but I retracted my hand midway.

His eyes just burned holes in mine, not evil holes, more like...yearning holes...until I nervously took the extended hand in mine. He helped me up and I leaned against him. Jake took a step forward and I followed him.

Before I knew it, the police station was looming over me.

"I can't do it." I said to Jake, changing my mind the second I saw the huge scary looking building, with all those secrets inside..

"What? Why?" He asked me.

"I just can't, Jake! Not now! Can't you let me do this myself? Let me do it on my own time."

"No, I can't Miley. You will _never _do this by yourself! Your own time is _not _good enough."

"Why do you care anyways?" I asked him. "If I die, you won't have to worry about me, you won't have to deal with the crying, you won't have to keep forcing me to tell somebody..."

"I care because I want to. I want to worry about you, I want to deal with the crying, I want you to tell people, because...because...well...because I love you."

He loves me?

He _loves _me?

He l-o-v-e-s me?

"You don't mean that." I say, trying not to believe it, so that when he tells me he was just trying to push me to tell somebody, it doesn't hurt so much. It'll still tear my heart out, ripping all the seams, leaving them to continue unraveling.

"Yes I do." He replies, _meaning _it.

"I...I...I lo-"

"Miley Stewart!" I am interrupted by yet another unwelcome detective.

"Come with me." He says in a voice the leads me to believe he may be related to Traci VanHorn.

"I'm Detective Keen, and I've been looking for you all night, along with many of the other officers in the 'Special Victims Unit'."

You haven't been looking _hard. _You don't care.

I just stare at the man, and he pulls on my arm.

"You, what's your name?" He asks Jake.

This man _obviously _has no life...or TV. Or magazine, or friends, or anything that makes noise besides his dog.

"Jake...Jake Ryan."

"Oh. You're that kid in that Zombie Show aren't you?" He asks, very un-enthusiastically.

"Uhh, yeah..."

"Come with me." Detective Not-too-keen orders.

The Detective pulls me into the police station, and Jake whispers,

"His name should be Detective Unfriendly."

I smile at this remark, but the Detective turns around, and I realize what I'm doing here, again, so it quickly disappears.

He seems very eager to talk to me, but leaves me sitting with Jake in what somewhat resembles a waiting room.

There are four chairs and an end table. A couple magazines are sitting on the end table, but they're nothing worth reading.

Police Weekly

Forensic Facts

Stuff like that.

I doubt any police officers are going to be waiting here. Most likely, criminals will be sitting here, and if they read police magazines, they'll know what the police are looking for, and then they'll get away with their crimes. I don't think this was thought through.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jake's lips moving, but I have no clue what he's saying. I bet it's "Don't worry, it'll be fine." "I am so glad you're doing this, I swear you will feel so much better after you tell them." or something like, "I once had to do something like this on Zombie High" and then some quote from the show.

I bet I could run and nobody would notice. Jake is too into his speach about the moral values of "Teen Crime Investigator", and everybody else around here is _way _to interested in their computers. Except one person.

I come back to reality when a different Detective is standing in front of me.

This one is a woman. A very plain woman. She's wearing a grey skirt and a white blouse, with buttons I might add, and a matching grey jacket. I like her shoes though. Her hair. It's shoulder length and blonde, but not exciting. It just hangs there. It blends in well with her non-existant makeup.

She could be really pretty if she tried, but I'm thinking you don't have much time for a life when you have this job.

"Hello, Miss Stewart, I'm Detective Catherine Folsom. Will you come with me?"

I wonder if they named the prison after her. That'd be depressing. Tons of criminals, with no life short of eating nasty prison food and sitting on a tiny toilet in a tiny prison cell, knowing your name better than their own.

I look at Jake, almost asking for permission, and he smiles. The smile confuses me, and I turn to follow the Detective. She takes me down the hall to a small room with four chairs and a table. A single light bulb dangles above the table. It _looks_ like a prison cell. Minus the toilet.

She motions for me to sit in one of the chairs, so I do.

Detective Catherine Folsom sits across from me and says,

"Miley, you know why you're here, right?"

I nod, and she continues.

"Are you aware that your brother awoke from a coma two days ago?"

Again, I nod.

"When he woke up...he had an interesting story to tell..."

I lean back in my chair and put my hands in my lap.

"He said, that he was shot by your step brother," She looks down at a piece of paper in front of her. Benjamin Heaton. You were there, is this true?"

I shrug my shoulders, and she sighs.

Detective Folsom leans back in her chair and says,

"I'm trying to make this easier for you, and you need to cooperate for that to happen." She's such a bitch. Can't she just be nice? Being mean won't make me say anything any time soon.

"So is it true?" She repeats.

I nod, although I don't want to give her the satisfaction of it.

"Good...we're making progress."

"He said, that when he came into the house...you were on the couch, out cold...and Ben was on top of you?"

I just stare at her in agreement.

"So...you were raped by your stepbrother?"

I don't say anything, and just start drumming my fingers on the table.

"Is this true?" She asks. I continue to play music on the table.

"Miley?"

She waves her hand in my face and I look up at her.

"Miley, is it true?"

I looked away and ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to decide whether or not I should lie.

I have a chance to get it all over with. Why shoudn't I? I could end this right now. No more.

I turn to the detective and tell her,

"Yes."


	15. Chapter 15

This seat is uncomfortable. This room is too hot. The Judge has a unibrow. Ben's lawyer is a lying..._slug_.

They make court look way more glamorous on TV. Like in Law & Order, or CSI. The people don't look uncomfortable, the judge isn't a old fat guy. It's not fair. The lawyers aren't any nicer, but at least their clothes match, and there's no food stains.

My lawyer is okay though. Her name is Diane Howard, and she's the second best lawyer in Malibu.

It's not like I need a great lawyer though. If anyone in the jury has half a brain, they'll find him guilty. He doesn't have to say a word. They don't have to know anything, and they would find him guilty

His lawyer is standing in the front of the room, hiding a smile. I can tell he's gonna lie about something.

"Benjamin Heaton is not a rapist. Benjamin Heaton was _sick. _After he was arrested, our doctors performed the mandatory check up. The doctors found something. Ben had a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball."

He turns to the "witness", who is old, fat, and look's like the judge's twin, minus the unibrow.

"Doctor Bleeker, Could you tell us where this tumor was located?"

"When we performed the CT scan, we found a malignant tumor in his Frontal Lobe."

"Doctor, what does this part of the brain control?" The slimy scumbag slug of a lawyer asked.

"The frontol lobe controls behavior, problem solving, emotion, judgment, personality..."

Are they seriously trying to say he did this to me because of a stupid tumor?

"So this tumor could have caused Benjamin to do things he normally would not do, right?"

"Yes, it would."

"Nothing further."

Diane got up and approached the doctor.

"Doctor Bleeker, Is it possible that Benjamin Heaton could have performed this act without the tumor?"

"I suppose." He answered. "If he would normally act that way, the tumor might not have been the cause."

"And, the tumor could return, is that not correct?"

"It could..." Fatso replied

She turned to the jury and said,

"Do you want to let a rapist free _just because _he had a tumor, which, most likely, will return?"

She paused.

"I didn't think so." And with that, she sat down.

Slimey Sam rose and said,

"The deffense calls Jackson Stewart to the bench."

_This man is stupid. Does he actually believe my own brother will say something bad about me?_

Jackson slid into the bench, carefully, and looked at the so-called-lawyer.

They went through the whole, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, yadda yadda yadda, thing, and slug-man got in his face.

"Mr. Stewart, you claim that you witnessed my client raping your sister, correct?"

"Yes." Jackson replied.

"Are you sure that is what you saw?"

Jackson nodded, and said,

"Yes."

"But can you be one hundred percent positive that that is what you saw?" Sluggy Simon asked (harassed) him.

"I know I saw that son of a bitch rape my sister." Jackson shot a glance to Linda and apologized with his eyes.

"You go to work after school, correct?"

He nods.

"So you were probably tired. And when you're tired, you don't pay much attention to what's going on around you. So you could have seen something entirely different." The sorry excuse for a laywer nodded, like he was sure whatever he was thinking was right.

"Listen, I know what I saw." Jackson said, earning a warning glare from the judge.

"Mr. Stewart, how do you know your sister isn't just a whore? How do you know she wasn't just having sex with her step brother?"

Did I mention that I _hate _slugs?

"Objection, your honor, he's insulting my client!" Diane yelled.

"Sustained." The judge replied, obviously bored. He looked like he was falling asleep.

The bad excuse for a human being sighed and said,

"How can you be sure she did not consent?"

"First of all, my sister would _never ever_ do something like that, second, I could hear her screaming when I pulled into the driveway, and third, when I came in, she was unconsious. My sister might just be strange, but I'm pretty sure that means she _did not_ consent."

"That's just it. Maybe your sister _is _"just strange", I mean,"

_Oh he is so not going there._

"She has been diagnosed with both Psychosis _and _Schizophrenia."

_Oh he went there._

I could almost feel Jake's eyes burning into the back of my head, even though he was in the way back of the room.

"After this happened. He's the cause of it." He said, the anger showing in his voice.

"You don't know that for sure. She hasn't been thoroughly examined."

Before Jackson could reply and pointlessly defend me any further, Slimebag says,

"Nothing further."

Diane got up and stood in front of my brother.

"Could you please describe what happened that night?"

"Umm...Well, I was coming home from work early, because my boss had a family emergency. When I was in the driveway, I heard screaming, so I ran to the house...I heard some more screaming...and_...other_...noises." He shivered in disgust and continued. " The screaming stopped, but I was kind of...scared...I didn't know what was going on, so I called the police...and then I came inside. They were on the couch. She was unconsious...I think he knocked her out on the side table, there was a little blood on it...he saw me, and he got off her...that's when she woke up. She was screaming, and he was coming after me with a gun, so I went in the kitchen and got my dad's knife. He had me cornered, so I stabbed him...then he chased me up the stairs and pointed the gun at me...Miley was still screaming, and he tried to shoot her...but he missed, like three times, but he got her in the shoulder...he...started appologizing...telling her he loved her and he didn't mean it...and then he shot me, and I fell down the stairs...then I don't remember what happened."

"Thank you." Diane told him, before sitting down.

"Court is in recess until 9 am tomorrow morning." The judge said, before resting his head in his arms, probably to take a nap.

Diane patted me on the shoulder, smiled, and my dad took my hand. Linda didn't even look at me. I'm not sure if it's because she feels guilty, or because she doesn't believe me. This family is _so _in need of therapy.

As were leaving, Jake cought up with us.

"Psychosis? Schizo-whatever? Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"Do you know what that mean, Jake? It means I'm crazy."

Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I don't know why it hadn't had this effect before...

"I'm crazy."

_I really am crazy._

_I'm crazy..._

_I'm crazy._

_I'm crazy and it's all his fault._


	16. Chapter 16

**_Last chaaaaaaaaapter...!!... Yay, I'm finally finished...it's sad, I actually want it to end this time..._**

You would thinking telling the world something so important would be like a giant weight lifted off your shoulders. You would think it would make you feel better. But it doesn't. I can no longer pretend it didn't happen. It's out in the open now.

When it was bouncing around in my head, I could pretend it never happened. Now that I spoke the words, its real. The words bring it to life.

I sit on my bed, my clothes in front of me, my eyes directed to the tree outside my window. I feel dead. Maybe I should say something. Words might bring _me_ to life. But I keep quiet.

Completely.

Silent.

No sound.

Nothing.

It's almost as if I hadn't told.

I run my fingers along the trim surrounding the window. It's smooth, except for one spot, where it's chipped. It's just a little spot, but it ruins the smoothness.

One little thing can ruin something big. One little crime can ruin someone's life. It ruined mine. I will never, _ever, _be the same.

A rain drop hits the window, making a small 'plink' noise. I let out a breath, and the room gets louder. More raindrops hit the window. Somebody puts the breakfast dishes away downstairs. Footsteps. On the stairs. My door opening. My dad.

"Miley." He says, sounding sorry. I don't want him to be sorry. I don't want him here at all. I want to sulk, and be depressed, and think about how my life's about to change forever. I wish I hadn't found out. I could've denied it for a long time.

"It's time to go."

Time to go back to trial. Time to see what they say. With my luck, they'll say it's my fault, just because of all the lies that lying son of a slug-face told them.

Before I know it, we're in the car. On our way. I have a pit in my stomach and it's slowly getting bigger. The stoplight turns red, and I look out the window at a billboard.

It's an add for Eastwood Orthodontics. The kid on the sign has his head tilted to the side, and his mouth open, showing only his top teeth. He has big ears and way too many freckles for somebody with black hair. His eyebrows are way too bushy, he has a neck like an osterich, and his Adam's apple makes him look like he swallowed a spoon and it got suck on the way down. His happiness is fake. No kid is happy to get braces.

He _looks_ happy though. I wish _I _could look happy. For a minute, at least.

It sure makes me feel better to make fun of him. Maybe if I can find faults in other people, It will erase the faults in me.

The smiling kid is soon left behind when the light finally turns green. My dad parks the car, and I hesitate before getting out.

I have to go. I know that. But I don't want to.

Once I am sitting on the familiar uncomfortable, sticky bench, the pit in my stomach has consumed my whole insides.

The judge appears and hits his gavel on the desk. He looks sweaty already, and we haven't even started. I'm not sure if I should look across the isle.

Ben's here today. I want to look, and see the scared look on his face, but I'm too afraid. I'm too afraid he _won't_ be scared.

I can hear the litle engine that could chanting in my head. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

I swallow, and the pit in my stomach shrinks a little.

They've already started and Sluggy McStinkerson is up front telling more lies.

I suddenly have enough courage to look, even if only for a second. So I do.

He's sitting on the bench across from me, with neither a smile, nor a frown on his face. His mouth is a perfect line. His eyes look completely normal. He doesn't look scared at all. More, bored.

Suddenly, he turns my direction, and even though I want to turn away, I can't.

The corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk, and his nostrils flare. Then, he winks.

My eyes open as wide as humanly possible, and my pupils take them over. His tongue leaves the inside of his mouth, and makes its way over his top lip.

I let out a gagging sound, before going completely stiff and sliding off the bench. My dad notices, and tries to help me up, but the second he touches me, for some strange unexplainable reason, I start screaming.

If I was still Hannah, she would be canceling some concerts. There is no way I will be able to talk after this.

The judge is yelling, hitting his gavel on the desk so hard it's about to split in two, and a big crowd is gathering around me, trying to get me to stop.

"Miley!" My dad is shouting.

BANG BANG BANG

The judge rises from his seat and shouts,

"Miley Stewart, if you do not stop screaming, I will have to charge you with contempt!"

I can't stop though. Nothing could make me stop. I _want _to stop, I just...can't.

"Miley, honey, why are you screaming?" My dad is shouting over the sound of me screaming, the jury gossiping, and the judge yelling.

"He-he-He winked...he winked!!"

If this were a cartoon, my dad would have a huge question mark over his head.

My screaming dies down, but I'm still crying. My stomach is lurching around with each and every sob, almost as if somebody has a rope tied around it, and keeps jerking on it.

My dad is on the ground with me now, my head in his lap. He's rubbing my arm and whispering something, but I break free from his grasp and lean forward, before letting the contents of my stomach out onto the burgandy carpet.

I have never cried this hard before. Not even when it happened. I didn't even know you could cry until you threw up. But apparently, you can.

By now, the jury has filed out of the room, and My dad, Diane, the judge, Jake, and myself are the only ones left in the room. I didn't even know he was here.

_Why wouldn't he be here? He's_ _been here every day._

_Why do you always have to talk when I'm in a bad mood?_

_Just because. Besides, it your brain that makes me talk. You're the one with the problem._

I already know that, thank you very much.

_Just trying to help. **Somebody **had to make it clear._

I ignore the voice, and wipe my mouth on my sleeve. I'm still shaking, but everybody around me is relaxed.

"Let's go home for a little bit." My dad suggests.

"I don't want to go home." I say, after a long pause. My dad looks surprised.

Of course I don't wanna go home. He lived there, he touched things, he's all over the place. I can't go home and see his pictures, smell his smell. I can't.

"I wanna go to Jake's."

"What? Jake?"

I nod, and try to get up. In less than a second, Jake has moved from the corner of the room, to my side. He extends his hand, and this time, I quickly take it.

Jake's house is nice. Everything is so...new. And clean. Everything is so shiny you can see your reflection in it. Even the floors.

His couch is comfortable. It's dark chocolate brown leather, matching all the other furniture. I'm almost asleep when Jake returns with a blanket. He drapes it over me and sits in the chair across from the couch.

Even with my eyes closed, I can tell he's staring at me.

"You can give up, you can't burn a hole in my head with your eyes." I say, my eyes still shut tight. He lets out a grunt, nothing more, and leaves the room. His footsteps get quieter and quieter, and I know, that finally, I am alone. I have not slept this good in months. It's almost as if the house just gives off a vibe..like Jake does.

But before I know it, he's back in the living room, telling me we have to go back.

I am very anxious about goig back, but I figure, after what he did earlier, they aren't gonna believe that it was the tumor. Unless it can grow back in less than a week, he did this on his own.

I actually hoped it had been the tumor. That would mean it was the cause, and not me. Maybe I did lead him on a bit. I mean, he's seen me in nothing but a towel countless times. I've been in a bathing suit around him. It makes me feel guilty. I feel sick. But I'm not the guilty one. He is.

"Guilty." The jury decides.

There is a loud wooshing sound, as if every human being in the room has let out a breath.

I, however, hold mine. I want to let it out, but I have more to say, and my unspoken words are holding my breath hostage.

I spoke about _this_, now I have something else to say. The baliff leads Ben out in handcuffs, and everybody starts getting up from their seats. My dad turns to me, holding out his arms to give me a hug, but instead, with tears streaming down my face, I tell him.

I talk louder than is neccessary, but I want them all to know how different my life will be after this.

So I tell the entire room a secret I had been holding for days.

I speak.

**_dah dee dah dee...that was weird...dee...  
ummm...yes, I do not plan on redoing the sequel, so...whatever...a big thanks to all...172 reviewers I had before redoing this! You're the best...I'd also like to thank all future readers...and my mother and my manager, and god...kidding, this isn't an acceptance speach. I don't have a manager anyway...and I won no award...too bad . _**

* * *


	17. Important Question ?

**__**

Hello again!

I know I have other things that I should actually be working on...but I've been feeling a little nostalgic lately, and I really wanted to redo speak again. Sooo

Should I revise or should I not?

And if I do, should I post a seperate, newer version, or should I just replace all the chapters in this one with the better chapters?

The story will be mostly the same. I just have a couple small things I wanted to add to the story, and theres stuff I need to change. Plus, I feel like it could be better. So let me know what you think, via review or PM or IM or whatever.


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